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Poems of Patriotism 



POEMS 
OF PATRIOTISM 



By 

Edgar A. Guest 

Author of 

•• A Heap o' Livin' " — " Just Folks " 

"The Path to Home" — '• When Day Is Done" 




The Reilly & Lee Co. 

Chicago 



CfAM ^ 



H 



Printed in the United States of America 






0* 

Copyright, 1918 

by 

The Reilly & Britton Co. 



Copyright, 1922 

by 

The Reilly & Lee Co. 



Poems ^ af 



Patriotism 



APfi-5'23' 

©C1A698858 - 



To the Soldiers of 

The American Legion — 

Living and Dead 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE 

Poems of Patriotism was originally published in 
1918 — at the height of the World War — under the 
title "Over Here." In that year "Over There" 
and " Over Here " had a special significance, that 
has passed with the years. 

The Reverend William L. Stidger, a noted critic, 
says this collection embraces writing that " strikes 
the clearest notes of true poetry — some of the 
finest poetry of patriotism that has ever been writ- 
ten in America." And so, the publishers feel, the 
title '' Poems of Patriotism " better comprehends 
the contents of this volume. 

In this new edition five of Mr. Guest's finest 
poems of war days — written after " Over Here " 
was published — have been substituted for poems 
that may not properly be classified as poems of 
patriotism. These new poems are : 

They Will Return 
What He Learned 
'Don't Overdo It 
Comrades All 
The Soldier Homeward Bound 



INDEX 

Alarm, The 48 

America 14 

April Thoughts 130 

As It Looks to the Boy 100 

Battle Prayer, A 23 

Beautifying the Flag 124 

Better Thing, The 75 

Big Deeds, The 58 

Bigger Than His Dad 90 

Boy Enlists, The 49 

Boy's Adventure, The 91 

Call, The 136 

Call to Service, The 29 

Change, The 26 

Chaplain, The 132 

Christmas, 1918 150 

Christmas Box, The 94 

Christmas Greeting, A 164 

Comrades All 163 

Constant Beauty 184 

Creed, A 98 

Discovery of a Soul, The 114 

Do Your All 120 

Don't Overdo It 109 

Drafted 170 

Duty 68 - 

Easy Service 158 

Envy 42 

Everywhere in America 18 

Exempt 66 



Index 

Father's Prayer, A 122 

Father's Thoughts, A 160 

Father's Tribute, A 34 

Flag, The 22 

Flag on the Farm, The 54 

Fly a Clean Flag 102 

Follow the Flag 62 

For Your Boy and Mine 44 

Friendly Greeting, The 145 

From Laughter to Labor 127 

Future, The 121 - 

General Pershing 73 

Girl He Left Behind, The 38 

Glory of the Age, The 123 

Gold Givers, The iii 

Good Luck 24 

Good Soldier, A 78 

Hate 72 

Here We Are ! 116 

His Room 41 

His Santa Claus 80 

Honor Roll, The 83 

I Follow a Famous Father 178 

Ideals 166 

If He Should Meet a Mother There 33 

Important Thing, The * . . 180 

Joy to Be, The 32 

July the Fourth, 1917 86 

^^lly Ingram '^ 



Index 

Life's Slacker 175 

Living 174 

Memorial Day 142 

Mother Faith, The 50 

Mother on the Sidewalk, The 56 

Mothers and Wives 28 

My Part 134 

New Year, The 152 

Next of Kin 106 

Our Duty to Our Flag 153 

Out of It All 93 

Patriot, A 140 

Patriotic Creed, A 40 

Patriotic Wish, A _ 139 

Plea, A 95 

Prayer, A 70 

-Prayer, 1918, A 25 

Princess Pats, The 85 

Proof of Worth, The 176 

Prophecy 188 

RebelHon . 168 

Reflection 171 

Runner McGee 36 

See It Through 108 

Show the Flag 82 

.Soldier Homeward Bound, The 125 

Soldier on Crutches, The 143 

Soldierly 46 



Index 

Spring in the Trenches 88 

Struggle, The 99 

Sympathy yi 

Taking His Place 148 

Thanksgiving 138 

They Will Return 11 

Things That Make a Soldier Great, The ... 20 

Thoughts of a Soldier 52 

Time For Deeds, The 16 

To a Kindly Critic 104 

To a Lady Knitting 76 

Undaunted, The 112 

United 128 

Unsettled Scores, The , 154 

Waiter at the Camp, The 162 

Warriors 156 

War's Homecoming 105 

We Need a Few More Optimists 146 

We've Had a Letter From the Boy '64 

We Who Stay at Home 118 

What He Learned 182 

When the Drums Shall Cease to Beat .... 186 

Why We Fight 13 

Wish, A 173 

Wrist Watch Man, The 60 

Your Country Needs You 96 



Poems of Patriotism 



They Will Return 

They will not come in swinging line, 

They will not march along the street, 
But they will see each tender sign 

We make for those we long to greet. 
They'll see the tears in gentle eyes 

That watch the broken ranks go by, 
They'll hear the mothers' sobs and sighs 

And understand the reason why. 
The missing brave, for whom we yearn 
In victory's hour, will all return. 

Because his comrades left him there 

To sleep 'neath Flanders' poppy rows. 
Think not that he will fail to share 

In all the praise the world bestows. 
Think not that he will fail to hear 

The music and the shouts of joy; 
He will be always hovering near. 

Oh, mother of each missing boy, 
He'll know across life's dusky rim. 
That all your smiles are meant for him! 

II 



When they return to sound of cheers, 

And all their cruel tasks are done. 
The shouts the living soldier hears 

Will also reach the absent one. 
When all the battle flags are furled 

And peace has come to every land. 
The joy that reigns throughout the world 

The dead will know and understand. 
They will be near to hear and see 
And share in victory's jubilee. 



12 



Why We Fight 

This is the thing we fight : 

A cry of terror in the night; 

A ship on work of mercy bent — 

A carrier of the sick and maimed — 
Beneath the cruel waters sent, 

And those that did it, unashamed. 

A woman who had tried to fill 

A mother's place; had nursed the ill 

And soothed the troubled brows of pain 

And earned the dying's grateful prayers, 
Before a wall by soldiers slain ! 

And such a poor pretext was theirs ! 

Old women pierced by bayonets grim 
And babies slaughtered for a whim. 
Cathedrals made the sport of shells. 

No mercy, even for a child, 
As though the imps of all the hells 

Were crazed with drink and running wild. 

All this we fight — that some day when 
Good sense shall come again to men. 
Our children's children may not read 

This age's history thus defamed 
And find we served a selfish creed 

And ever be of us ashamed ! 



13 



America 

God has been good to men. He gave 
His Only Son their souls to save, 
And then he made a second gift, 
Which from their dreary lives should lift 
The tyrant's yoke and set them free 
From all who'd throttle liberty. 
He gave America to men — 
Fashioned this land we love, and then 
Deep in her forests sov/ed the seed 
Which was to serve man's earthly need. 

When wisps of smoke first upwards curled 
From pilgrim fires, upon the world 
Unnoticed and unseen, began 
God's second work of grace for man. 
Here where the savage roamed and fought, 
God sowed the seed of nobler thought; 
Here to the land we love to claim. 
The pioneers of freedom came; 
Here has been cradled all that's best 
In every human mind and breast. 

For full four hundred years and more 
Our land has stretched her welcoming shore 
To weary feet from soils afar; 
Soul-shackled serfs of king and czar 
Have journeyed here and toiled and sung 



14 



And talked of freedom to their young, 
And God above has smiled to see 
This precious work of liberty, 
And watched this second gift He gave 
The dreary lives of men to save. 

And now, when liberty's at bay, 

And blood-stained tyrants force the fray, 

Worn warriors, battling for the right, 

Crushed by oppression's cruel might. 

Hear in the dark through which they grope 

America's glad cry of hope: 

Man's liberty is not to die ! 

America is standing by! 

World-wide shall human lives be free : 

America has crossed the sea! 

America! the land we love! 

God's second gift from Heaven above, 

Builded and fashioned out of truth. 

Sinewed by Him with splendid youth 

For that glad day when shall be furled 

All tyrant flags throughout the world. 

For this our banner holds the sky: 

That liberty shall never die. 

For this, America began: 

To make a brotherhood of man. 



15; 



The Time for Deeds 

We have boasted our courage in moments of ease, 
Our star-spangled banner we've flung on the 

breeze ; 
We have taught men to cheer for its beauty and 

worth, 
And have called it the flag of the bravest on earth. 
Now the dark days are here, we must stand to 

the test. 
Oh, God! let us prove we are true to our best! 

We have drunk to our flag, and we've talked of 

the right, 
We have challenged oppression to show us its 

might ; 
We have strutted for years through the world 

as a race 
That for God and for country, earth's tyrants 

would face; 
Now the gage is flung down, hate is loosed in the 

world. 
Oh, God! shall our flag in dishonor be furled? 

We have said we are brave; we have preached 

of the truth, 
We have walked in conceit of the strength of our 

youth ; 
We have mocked at the ramparts and guns of the 

foe, 

i6 



As though we believed we could laugh them all 

low. 
Now oppression has struck! We are challenged 

to fight! 
Oh, God ! let us prove we can stand for the right ! 

If in honor and glory our flag is to wave, 

If we are to keep this — the land of the brave; 

If more than fine words are to fashion our 

creeds, 
Now must our hands and our hearts turn to deeds. 
We are challenged by tyrants our strength to 

reveal ! 
Oh, God! let us prove that our courage is real! 



17 



Everywhere in America 

Not somewhere in America, but everywhere to- 
day, 

Where snow-crowned mountains hold their heads, 
the vales where children play, 

Beside the bench and whirring lathe, on every 
lake and stream 

And in the depths of earth below, men share a 
common dream — 

The dream our brave forefathers had of free- 
dom and of right, 

And once again in honor's cause, they rally and 
unite. 

Not somewhere in America is love of country 

found, 
But east and west and north and south once 

more the bugles sound. 
And once again, as one, men stand to break 

their brother's chains, 
And make the world a better place, where only 

justice reigns. 
The patriotism that is here, is echoed over there, 
The hero at a certain post is on guard every- 
where. 
O'er humble home and mansion rich the starry 

banner flies. 
And far and near throughout the land the men 

of valor rise. 

i8 



The flag that flutters o'er your home is fluttering 

far away 
O'er homes that you have never seen. The same 

impulses sway 
The souls of men in distant states. The red, the 

white and blue 
Means to one hundred million strong, just what 

it means to you. 
The self -same courage resolute you feel and 

understand 
Is throbbing in the breasts of men throughout 

this mighty land. 
Not somewhere in America, but everywhere to- 
day, 
For justice and for liberty all free men work 

and pray. 



19 



The Things That Make a Soldier 

Great ~~^ 

The things that make a soldier great and send 

him out to die, 
To face the flaming cannon's mouth, nor ever 

question why. 
Are hlacs by a Httle porch, the row of tuHps red, 
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed, 
The grass plot where his children play, the roses 

on the wall: 
'Tis these that make a soldier great. He's fight- 
ing for them all. 

'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make 

a soldier brave; 
'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may 

wave ; 
For soldiers never fight so well on land or on 

the foam 
As when behind the cause they see the little place 

called home. 
Endanger but that humble street whereon his 

children run — 
You make a soldier of the man who never bore 

a gun. 

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant 
soldier sees? 



20 



The little garden far away, the budding apple 

trees, 
The little patch of ground back there, the children 

at their play, 
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church 

of gray. 
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to 

castle dome 
But to the spot, where'er it be — the humble spot 

called home. 

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely 
there, 

And homesick soldiers far away know spring is 
in the air; 

The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once 
more is green. 

And every man can see the spot where all his 
joys have been. 

He sees his children smile at him, he hears the 
bugle call. 

And only death can stop him now — he's fight- 
ing for them all. 



21 



The Flag 

We never knew how much the Flag 

Could mean, until he went away, 
We used to boast of it and brag, 

As something of a by-gone day; 
But now the Flag can start our tears 

In moments of our greatest joy, 
Old Glory in the sky appears 

The symbol of our little boy. 

We knew that sometimes people wept 

To see the Flag go waving by. 
But never guessed the griefs they kept 

We never understood just why. 
But now our eyes grow quickly dim. 

Our voices choke with sobs today ; 
The Flag is telling us of him. 

Our little boy who's gone away. 

We never knew the Flag could be 

So much a part of human life, 
We thought it beautiful to see 

Before these bitter days of strife; 
But now more beautiful it gleams, 

And deeper in our hearts it dwells; 
It is the emblem of our dreams. 

For of our little boy it tells. 



22 



A Battle Prayer 

God of battles, be with us now: 

Guard our sons from the lead of shame, 
Watch our sons when the cannons flame, 

Let them not to a tyrant bow. 

God of battles, to Thee we pray: 
Be with each loyal son who fights 
In the cause of justice and human rights. 

Grant him strength and lead the way. 

God of battles, our youth we give 
To the battle line on a foreign soil, 
To conquer hatred and lust and spoil; 

Grant that they and their cause shall live. 



23 



Good Luck 

Good luck! That's all I'm saying, as you sail 
across the sea; 

The best o' luck, in the parting, is the prayer 
you get from me. 

May you never meet a danger that you won't 
come safely through, 

May you never meet a German that can get the 
best of you; 

Oh ! A thousand things may happen when a fel- 
low's at the front, 

A thousand different mishaps, but here's hoping 
that they won't. 

Good luck! That's all I'm saying, as you turn 
away to go. 

Good luck and plenty of it, may it be your lot to 
know ; 

May you never meet rough weather, but remem- 
ber if you do 

That the folks at home are wishing that you'll all 
come safely through. 

Oh! A thousand things may happen when a fel- 
low bears the brunt 

Of His Country's fight for glory, but I'm pray- 
ing that they won't. 

Good luck! That's all I'm saying as you're fall- 
ing into line; 

24 



May the splendor of your service bring you 

everything that's fine; 
May the fates deal kindly with you, may you 

never know distress, 
And may every task you tackle end triumphant 

with success. 
Oh! A thousand things may happen that with 

joy your life will fill; 
You may not get all the gladness, but I'm hoping 

that you will. 



A Prayer, 1918 

Oh, make us worthy, 

God, we pray. 
To do thy service 

Here to-day; 
Endow us with 

The strength we need 
For every 

Sacrificial deed! 



25 



The Change 

'Twas hard to think that he must go, 
We knew that we should miss him so, 
We thought that he must always stay 
Beside us, laughing, day by day; 
That he must never know the care 
And hurt and grief of life out there. 
Then came the call for youth, and he 
Talked with his mother and with me. 
And suddenly we learned the boy 
Was hungering to know the joy 
Of doing something real with life, 
And that he craved the test of strife. 

And so we steeled ourselves to dread; 
To see at night his empty bed ; 
To feel the silence and the gloom 
That hovers o'er his vacant room. 
And though we wept the day he went. 
And many a lonely hour we've spent. 
We've come to think as he, somehow. 
And we are more contented now; 
We're proud that we can stand and say 
We have a boy who's gone away. 
And we are glad to know that he 
Is serving where he ought to be. 

It's queer, the change that time has brought ; 
We're different now in speech and thought; 

26 



His letters home mean joy to us. 
His difficulties we discuss. 
When word of his promotion came. 
His mother, with her eyes aflame 
With happiness and pride, rushed out 
To tell the neighbors round about. 
Her boy! Her boy is doing well! 
What greater news can mothers tell? 
I think that pity now we show 
For those who have no boys to go. 



2y 



Mothers and Wives 

Mothers and wives, 'tis the call to arms 

That the bugler yonder prepares to sound; 
We stand on the brink of war's alarms 

And your men may lie on a bloodstained 
ground. 
The drums may play and the flags may fly, 

And our boys may don the brown and blue. 
And the call that summons brave men to die 

Is the call for glorious women, too. 

Mothers and wives, if the summons comes. 

You, as ever since war has been. 
Must hear with courage the rolling drums 

And dry your tears when the flags are seen. 
For never has hero fought and died 

Who has braver been than the mother, who 
Buckled his saber at his side. 

And sent him forward to dare and do. 

Mothers and wives, should the call ring out. 

It is you must answer your country's cry; 
You must furnish brave hearts and stout 

For the firing line where the heroes die. 
And never a corpse on the field of strife 

Should be honored more in his country's sight 
Than the noble mother or noble wife 

Who sent him forth in the cause of right. 



28 



Mothers and wives, 'tis the call for men 

To give their strength and to give their lives; 
But well we know, such a summons then 

Is the call for mothers and loyal wives. 
For you must give us the strength we need, 

You must give us the boys in blue. 
For never a boy or a man shall bleed 

But a mother or wife shall suffer, too, 



The Call to Service 

These are the days when little thoughts 
Must cease men's minds to occupy; 

The nation needs men's larger creeds. 
Big men must answer to her cry; 

No longer selfish ways we tread, 
The greater task lies just ahead. 

These are the days when petty things 
By all men must be thrust aside; 

The country needs men's finest deeds, 
Awakened is the nation's pride; 

Men must forsake their selfish strife 

Once more to guard their country's life. 



29 



K^elly Ingram 



His name was Kelly Ingram; he was Alabama's 

son, 
And he whistled " Yankee Doodle," as he stood 

beside his gun; 
There was laughter in his make-up, there was 

manhood in his face, 
And he knew the best traditions and the courage 

of his race; 
Now there's not a heart among us but should 

swell with loyal pride 
When he thinks of Kelly Ingram and the splendid 

way he died. 

On the swift Destroyer Cassin he was merely 

gunner's mate. 
But up there to-day, I fancy, he is standing with 

the great. 
On that grim day last October his position on 

the craft 
Was that portion of the vessel which the sailors 

christen aft; 
There were deep sea bombs beside him to be 

dropped upon the Hun 
Who makes women folks his victims and then 

gloats o'er what he's done. 

From the lookout came a warning; came the 
cry all sailors fear, 

30 



A torpedo was approaching, and the vessel's 

doom was near; 
Ingram saw the streak of danger, but he saw a 

Httle more, 
A greater menace faced them than that missile 

had in store; 
If those deep sea bombs beside him were not 

thrown beneath the wave. 
Every man aboard the Cassin soon would find a 

watery grave. 

It was death for him to linger, but he figured 

if he ran 
And quit his post of duty, 'twould be death for 

every man; 
So he stood at his position, threw those depth 

bombs overboard, 
And when that torpedo struck them, he went 

forth to meet his Lord. 
Oh, I don't know how to say it, but these whole 

United States 
Should remember Kelly Ingram — he who died 

to save his mates. 



31 



The Joy to Be 

Oh, mother, be you brave of heart and keep 

your bright eyes shining; 
Some day the smiles of joy shall start and you 

shall cease repining. 
Beyond the dim and distant line the days of 

peace are waiting, 
When you shall have your soldier fine, and men 

shall turn from hating. 

Oh, mother, bear the pain a-while, as long ago 

you bore it; 
You suffered then to win his smile, and you 

were happier for it; 
And now you suffer once again, and bear your 

weight of sorrow; 
Yet you shall thrill with gladness when he wins 

the glad to-morrow. 

Oh, mother, when the cannons roar and all the 

brave are fighting, 
Remember that the son you bore the wrongs 

of earth is righting; 
Remember through the hours of pain that he 

with all his brothers 
Is battling there to win again a happy world 

for mothers. 



32 



// He Should Meet a Mother There 

If he should meet a mother there 

Along some winding Flanders road, 
No extra touch of grief or care 

He'll add unto her heavy load. 
But he will kindly take her arm 

And tender as her son will be; 
He'll lead her from the path of harm 

Because of me. 

Be she the mother of his foe, 

He will not speak to her in hate; 
My boy will never stoop so low 

As motherhood to desecrate. 
But she shall know what once I knew — 

Eyes that are glorious to see, 
The light of manhood shining through — 

Because of me. 

He will salute her as they meet, 

And stand before her bare of head; 
n she be hungry, she may eat 

His last remaining bit of bread. 
She'll find those splendid arms and strong 

Quick to assist her, tenderly, 
And they will guard her from all wrong 

Because of me. 



33 



I miss his thoughtful, loving care; 

I miss his smile these dreary days; 
But should he meet a mother there, 

Helpless and lost in war's grim maze, 
She need not fear to take his arm, 

As though she'd reared him at her knee; 
My son will shield her from all harm 

Because of me. 



A Father s Tribute 

I don't know what they'll put him at, or what 

his post may be; 
I cannot guess the task that waits for him across 

the sea, 
But I have known him through the years, and 

when there's work to do, 
I know he'll meet his duty well, I'll swear that 

he'll be true. 

I sometimes fear that he may die, but never that 

he'll shirk ; 
If death shall want him death must go and take 

him at his work ; 
This splendid sacrifice he makes is filled with 

terrors grim, 
And I have many thoughts of fear, but not one 

fear of him. 

34 



The foe may rob my life of joy, the foe may 
take my all, 

And desolate my days shall be if he shall have to 
fall, 

But this I know, whate'er may be the grief that 
I must face, 

Upon his record there will be no blemish of dis- 
grace. 

His days have all been splendid days, there lies 

no broken trust 
Along the pathway of his youth to molder in 

the dust; 
Honor and truth have marked his ways, in him 

I can be glad; 
He is as fine and true a son as ever a father had. 



35 



Runner McGee 

(Who had " Return if Possible " Orders.) 

" You've heard a good deal of the telephone 

wires," he said as we sat at our ease, 
And talked of the struggle that's taking men's 

lives in these terrible days o'er the seas, 
" But I've been through the thick of the thing 

and I know when a battle's begun. 
It isn't the phone you depend on for help. It's 

the legs of a boy who can run. 

" It isn't because of the phone that I'm here. 

To-day you are talking to me 
Because of the grit and the pluck of a boy. His 

title was Runner McGee. 
We were up to our dead line an' fighting alone; 

some plan had miscarried, I guess, 
And the help we were promised had failed to 

arrive. We were showing all signs of 

distress. 

" Our curtain of fire was ahead of us still, an* 
theirs was behind us an' thick. 

An' there wasn't a thing we could do for our- 
selves — ^the few of us left had to stick. 

You haven't much chance to get central an' talk 
on the phone to the music of guns; 

Gettin' word to the chief is a matter right then 
that is up to the fellow who runs. 

36 



*' I'd sent four of 'em back with the R. I. P. 

sign, which means to return if you can, 
But none of 'em got through the curtain of fire; 

my hurry call died with the man. 
Then Runner McGee said he'd try to get through. 

I hated to order the kid 
On his mission of death; thought he'd never get 

by, but somehow or other he did. 

*' Yes, he's dead. Died an hour after bringing 

us word that the chief was aware of our 

plight, 
An' for us to hang on to the ditch that we held; 

the reserves would relieve us at night. 
Then we stuck to our trench an' we stuck to our 

guns; you know how you'll fight when 

you know 
That new strength is coming to fill up the gaps. 

There's heart in the force of your blow. 

*' It wasn't till later I got all the facts. They 

wanted McGee to remain. 
They begged him to stay. He had cheated death 

once an' was fooHsh to try it again. 
* R. L P. are my orders,' he answered them all, 

* an' back to the boys I must go ; 
Four of us died comin' out with the news. It 

will help them to know that you know.' '* 



37 



The Girl He Left Behind 

We used to think her frivolous — you know how 

parents are, 
A Httle quick to see the faults and petty flaws 

that mar 
The girl their son is fond of and may choose 

to make his wife, 
A little overjealous of the one who'd share his 

hfe; 
But the girl he left behind him when he bravely 

marched away 
Has blossomed into beauty that we see and need 

to-day. 

She was with us at the depot, and we turned our 
backs a-while, 

And her eyes were sad and misty, though she 
tried her best to smile. 

Then she put her arm round mother, and it 
seemed to me as though 

They just grew to love each other, for they 
shared a common woe. 

Now she often comes to see us, and it seems 
to me we find 

A heap of solid comfort in the girl he left be- 
hind. 

" She's so sensible and gentle," mother said last 
night to me, 

38 



" The kind of girl I've often wished and prayed 
his wife would be. 

And I Hke to have her near us, for she under- 
stands my sighs 

And I see my brave boy smiling when I look into 
her eyes." 

Now the presence of his sweetheart seems to fill 
our home with joy. 

She's no longer young and flighty — she's the 
girl who loves our boy. 



35 



A Patriotic Creed 

To $erve my country day by day 
At any humble post I may; 
To honor and respect her Flag, 
To live the traits of which I brag; 
To be American in deed 
As well as in my printed creed. 

To stand for truth and honest toil, 
To till my little patch of soil 
And keep in mind the debt I owe 
To them who died that I might know 
My country, prosperous and free, 
And passed this heritage to me. 

I must always in trouble's hour 
Be guided by the men in power; 
For God and country I must live, 
My best for God and country give ; 
No act of mine that men may scan 
Must shame the name American. 

To do my best and play my part, 

American in mind and heart ; 

To serve the flag and bravely stand 

To guard the glory of my land; 

To be American In deed, 

God grant me strength to keep this creed. 



40 



His Boom 

His room is as it used to be 

Before he went away, 
The walls still keep the pennants he 

Brought home but yesterday. 
The picture of his baseball team 

Still holds its favored spot, 
And oh, it seems a dreadful dream. 

This age of shell and shot! 

His golf clubs in the corner stand; 

His tennis racket, too, 
That once the pressure of his hand 

In times of laughter knew 
Is in the place it long has kept 

For us to look upon. 
The room is as it was, except 

The boy, himself, has gone. 

The pictures of his girls are here, 

Still smiling as of yore, 
And everything that he held dear 

Is treasured as before. 
Into his room his mother goes 

As usual, day by day. 
And cares for it, although she knows 

Our boy is far away. 



41 



We keep it as he left it, when 

He bade us all good-bye. 
Though I confess that, now and then, 

We view it with a sigh. 
For never night shall thrill with joy 

Nor day be free from gloom 
Until once more our soldier boy 

Shall occupy his room. 



Envy 

It's a bigger thing you're doing than the most 

of us have done; 
We have hved the days of pleasure; now the 

gray days have begun, 
And upon your manly shoulders fall the burdens 

of the strife; 
Yours must be the sacrifices of the trial time of 

Hfe. 
Oh, I don't know how to say it, but I'll never 

think of you 
Without wishing I were sharing in the work you 

have to do. 

I have never known a moment that was fraught 

with real care. 
Save the hurts and griefs of sorrow that all 

mortals have to bear ; 

42 



With the gay and smihng marchers I have 
tramped on pleasant ways, 

And have paid with feeble service for the glad- 
ness of my days. 

But to you has come a summons, yours are days 
of sacrifice, 

And for all life has of sweetness you must pay 
a bitter price. 

Men have fought and died before me, men must 
fight and die to-day, 

I have merely taken pleasures for which others 
had to pay ; 

I have been a man of laughter, there's no path 
my feet have made, 

I have merely been a marcher in life's gaudy 
dress parade. 

But you wear the garb of service, you have splen- 
did deeds to do, 

You shall sound the depths of manhood, and my 
boy, I envy you. 



43 



For Your Boy and Mine 

Your dream and my dream is not that we shall 

rest, 
But that our children after us shall know life at 

its best; 
For all we care about ourselves — a crust of 

bread or two, 
A place to sleep and clothes to wear is all that 

we'd pursue. 
We'd tramp the world on sunny days, both light 

of heart and mind, 
And give no thought to days to come or days 

we leave behind. 

Your dream and my dream is not that we shall 

play. 
But that our children after us shall tread a merry 

way. 
We brave the toil of life for them, for them we 

clamber high. 
And if 'twould spare them hurt and pain, for 

them we'd gladly die. 
If we had but ourselves to serve, we'd quit the 

ways of pride 
And with the simplest joys of earth we'd all be 

satisfied. 

The best for them is what we dream. Our little 
girls and boys 

44 



Must know the finest life can give of comforts 
and of joys. 

They must be shielded well from woe and kept 
secure from care, 

And if we could, upon our backs, their burdens 
we would bear. 

And so once more we rise to-day to face the bat- 
tle zone 

That those who follow us may know the Flag 
that we have known. 

Your dream and my dream is not that we shall 

live; 
The greatest joys we hope to claim are those that 

we shall give. 
We face the heat and strife of life, its battle and 

its toil 
That those who follow us may know the best of 

freedom's soil. 
And if we knew that by our death we'd keep that 

flag on high. 
For your boy and my boy, how gladly we would 

die. 



45 



Soldierly 

The glory of a soldier — and a soldier's not a 

saint — 
Is the way he does his duty without grumbling 

or complaint; 
His work's not always pleasant, but he does it 

rain or shine, 
And he grabs a bit of glory when he's fighting 

in the Hne; 
But the lesson that he teaches every day to me 

an' you 
Is the way to do a duty that we do not like to do. 

Any sort o' chap can whistle when his work is 

mostly fun; 
A hundred want the pleasant jobs to every sturdy 

one 
That'll grab the dreary duty an' the mean an' 

lowly task, 
Or the drab an' cheerless service that life often 

has to ask; 
But somebody has to do it, an' the test of me 

an' you 
Is the way we face the labor that we do not like 

to do. 

Now, it isn't very pleasant standin' guard out in 
the rain 



46 



But it's in the line o' duty, an' no soldier will 

complain, 
An' there isn't any soldier but what sometimes 

hates his work 
When the dress parade is over, an' perhaps he'd 

like to shirk. 
But he's there to follow orders, not to pick an' 

choose his post. 
An' he sometimes shines the finest at the job 

he hates the most. 

Let's be soldiers in the struggle, let's be loyal 

through and through-; 
Life is going to give us duties that perhaps we'll 

hate to do. 
There'll be little sacrifices that we will not like 

to make. 
There'll be many tasks unpleasant that will fall 

to us to take. 
An' although we all would rather do the work 

that brings applause. 
Let's forget our whims and fancies an' just labor 

for the cause. 



47 



The Alarm 

Get off your downy cots of ease, 

There's work that must be done. 
Great danger's riding on the seas. 

The storm is coming on. 
Don't think that it will quickly pass. 

Who smiles at distant fate, 
And waits until it strikes, alas! 

Has roused himself too late. 

Who thinks the fight will end before 

The need of him arrives. 
Is lengthening this brutal war 

And costing many lives. 
For over us that storm shall break 

Ere many weeks have fled. 
And we shall pay for our mistake 

In fields of mangled dead. 

Be ready when the foe shall near. 

Be there to strike him hard; 
Let us, though he be miles from here, 

Be standing now on guard. 
To-morrow's victories won't be won 

By pluck that we display 
To-morrow when the foe comes on, 

But by our work to-day. 



48 



The Boy Enlists 

His mother's eyes are saddened, and her cheeks 

are stained with tears, 
And I'm facing now the struggle that I've 

dreaded through the years; 
For the boy that was our baby has been changed 

into a man. 
He's enhsted in the army as a true American. 

He held her for a moment in his arms before 

he spoke, 
And I watched him as he kissed her, and it 

seemed to me I'd choke, 
For I knew just what was coming, and I knew 

just what he'd done! 
Another little mother had a soldier for a son. 

When . we'd pulled ourselves together, and the 

first quick tears had dried, 
We could see his eyes were blazing with the fire 

of manly pride; 
We could see his head was higher than it ever 

was before. 
For we had a man to cherish, and our baby was 

no more. 

Oh, I don't know how to say it! With the sor- 
row comes the joy 



49 



That there isn't any coward in the mai<e-up of 

our boy. 
And with pride our hearts are sweUing, though 

Avith grief they're also hit, 
For the boy that was our baby has stepped 

forth to do his bit. 



The Mother Faith 

Little mother, life's adventure calls your boy 

away. 
Yet he will return to you on some brighter day; 
Dry your tears and cease to sigh, keep your 

mother smile. 
Brave and strong he will come back in a little 

while. 

Little mother, heed them not — they who preach 

despair — 
You shall have your boy again, brave and oh, 

so fair ! 
Life has need of him to-day, but with victory 

won. 
Safely life shall bring to you once again your 

son. 



50 



Little mother, keep the faith: not to death he 
goes; 

Share with him the joy of worth that your sol- 
dier knows. 

He is giving to the Flag all that m.an can give, 

And if you believe he will, surely he will live. 

Little mother, through the night of his absence 

long. 
Never cease to think of him — brave and well 

and strong; 
You shall know his kiss again, you shall see his 

smile. 
For your boy shall come to you in a little while. 



51 



Thoughts of a Soldier 

Since men with life must purchase Hfe 

And some must die that more may Hve, 
Unto the Great Cashier of strife 

A fine accounting let me give. 
Perhaps to-morrow I shall stand 

Before his cage, prepared to buy 
New splendor for my native land : 

Oh, God, then bravely let me die! 

Tf after I shall fall, shall rise 

A fairer land than I have known, 
I shall not grudge my sacrifice. 

Although I pay the price alone. 
If still more beautiful to see 

The Stars and Stripes o'er men shall wave 
And finer shall my country be, 

To-morrow let me find my grave. 

To-night life seems so fair and sweet, 

Yet tyranny is stalking here. 
And hate and lust and foul deceit 

Hang heavy on the atmosphere. 
Injustice seeks to throttle right. 

And laughter's stifled to a sigh. 
If death can take so great a blight 

From human lives, then let me die. 



52 



If death must be the cost of Hfe, 

And freedom's terms are human souls. 
Into the thickest of the strife 

Then let me go to pay the tolls. 
I would enrich my native land, 

New splendor to her flag I'd give, 
If where I fall shall freedom stand. 

And where I die shall freedom live. 

To-morrow death with me may trade; 

Let me not quibble o'er the price; 
But may I, once the bargain's made, 

With courage meet the sacrifice. 
If happiness for ages long 

My little term of life can buy, 
God, for my country make me strong; 

To-morrow let me bravely die. 



53 



The Flag on the Farm 

We've raised a flagpole on the farm 

And flung Old Glory to the sky, 
And it's another touch of charm 

That seems to cheer the passer-by, 
But more than that, no matter where 

We're laboring in wood and field. 
We turn and see it in the air. 

Our promise of a greater yield. 
It whispers to us all day long 
From dawn to dusk: " Be true, be strong; 
Who falters now with plough or hoe 
Gives comfort to his country's foe." 

It seems to me I've never tried 

To do so much about the place, 
Nor been so slow to come inside, 

But since I've got the Flag to face. 
Each night when I come home to rest 

I feel that I must look up there 
And say : " Old Flag, I've done my best, 

To-day I've tried to do my share." 
And sometimes, just to catch the breeze, 
I stop my work, and o'er the trees 
Old Glory fairly shouts my way : 
" You're shirking far too much to-day ! " 

The help have caught the spirit, too; 
The hired m.an takes off his cap 

54 



Before the old red, white and blue, 

Then to the horses says : " Giddap ! " 

And starting bravely to the field 
He tells the milkmaid by the door: 

" "We're going to make these acres yield 
More than they've ever done before." 

She smiles to hear his gallant brag, 

Then drops a curtsey to the Flag, 

And in her eyes there seems to shine 

A patriotism that is fine. 

We've raised a flagpole on the farm 

And flung Old Glory to the sk}^ 
We're far removed from war's alarm, 

But courage here is running high. 
We're doing things we never dreamed 

We'd ever find the time to do ; 
Deeds that impossible once seemed 

Each morning now we hurry through. 
The Flag nov/ waves above our toil 
And sheds its glory on the soil, 
And boy and man look up to it 
As if to say : " I'll do my bit ! " 



55 



The Mother on the Sidewalk 

The mother on the sidewalk as the troops are 
marching by 

Is the mother of Old Glory that is waving in the 
sky. 

Men have fought to keep it splendid, men have 
died to keep it bright, 

But that flag was born of woman and her suffer- 
ings day and night; 

'Tis her sacrifice has made it, and once more we 
ought to pray 

For the brave and loyal mother of the boy that 
goes away. 

There are days of grief before her, there are 

hours that she will weep. 
There are nights of anxious waiting when her 

fear will banish sleep; 
She has heard her country calling and has risen 

to the test. 
And has placed upon the altar of the nation's 

need, her best. 
And no man shall ever suffer in the turmoil of 

the fray 
The anguish of the mother of the boy who goes 

away. 

You may boast men's deeds of glory, you may 
tell their courage great, 

S6 



But to die is easier service than alone to sit and 

wait, 
And I hail the little mother, with the tear-stained 

face and grave 
Who has given the Flag a soldier — she's the 

bravest of the brave. 
And that banner we are proud of, with its red 

and blue and white 
Is a lasting tribute holy to all mothers' love of 

right. 



5? 



The Big Deeds 

We are done with little thinking and we're done 

with little deeds, 
We are done v\^ith petty conduct and we're done 

with narrow creeds; 
We have grown to men and women, and we've 

noble work to do. 
And to-day vv^e are a people ynth. a larger point 

of view. 
In a big way we must labor, if our Flag shall 

always fly. 
In a big way some must suffer, in a big way 

some must die. 

There must be no little dreaming in the visions 

that we see. 
There must be no selfish planning in the joys that 

are to be; 
We have set our faces eastwards to the rising 

of the sun 
That shall light a better nation, and there's big 

work to be done. 
And the petty souls and narrow, seeking only 

selfish gain. 
Shall be vanquished by the toilers big enough to 

suffer pain. 



It's a big task we have taken; 'tis for others we 

S8 



must fight. 



We must see our duty clearly in a white and 
shining Hght; 

We must quit our little circles where we've moved 
in little ways, 

And work, as men and women, for the bigger, 
better days. 

We must quit our selfish thinking and our nar- 
row views and creeds, 

And as people, big and splendid, we must do the 
bigger deeds. 



59 



The Wrist Watch Man 

He is marching dusty highways and he's riding 

bitter trails, 
His eyes are clear and shining and his muscles 

hard as nails. 
He is wearing Yankee khaki and a healthy coat 

of tan, 
And the chap that we are backing is the Wrist 

Watch Man. 

He's no parlor dude, a-prancing, he's no puny 
pacifist. 

And it's not for affectation there's a watch upon 
his wrist. 

He's a fine tv/o-fisted scrapper, he is pure Amer- 
ican, 

And the backbone of the nation is the Wrist 
Watch Man. 

He is marching w^ith a rifle, he is digging in a 

trench. 
He is swapping English phrases with a poilu for 

his French ; 
You will find him in the navy doing anything he 

can. 
For at every post of duty is the Wrist Watch 

Man. 



60 



Oh, the time was that we chuckled at the soft 

and flabby chap 
Who wore a Httle wrist watch that was fastened 

with a strap. 
But the chuckles all have vanished, and with 

glory now we scan 
The courage and the splendor of the Wrist Watch 

Man. 

He is not the man we laughed at, not the one 

who won our jeers, 
He's the man that we are proud of, he's the man 

that owns our cheers; 
He's the finest of the finest, he's the bravest of 

the clan. 
And I pray for God's protection for our Wrist 

Watch Man. 



6i 



Follotv the Flag 

Aye, we will follow the Flag 

Wherever she goes, 
Into the tropic sun. 

Into the northern snows; 
Go where the guns ring out 

Scattering steel and lead. 
Painting the hills with blood. 

Strewing the fields with dead. 
But in each heart must be. 

And back of each bitter gun. 
Love for the best in life 

After the fighting's done. 

Aye, we will follow the Flag 

Into benighted lands, 
Brave in the faith for which. 

Proudly, our banner stands. 
Life for her Hfe v\^e'll pay, 

Blood for her blood we'll give. 
Fighting, but not to kill, 

Save that the best shall live. 
But, when the cannon's roar 

Dies in a hymn of peace. 
Justice and truth must reign. 

Power of the brute must cease. 

Aye, we will follow the Flag, 
Gladly her work we'll do, 

62 



Banishing wrongs of old. 

Founding the truth anew. 
What though our guns must speak, 

What though brave men must die. 
Ages of truth to come 

All this shall justify. 
Men in the charms of peace, 

Basking in Freedom's sun, 
SoruQ day shall bless our Flag 

After our work is done. 

Aye, we will follow the Flag 

Wherever she goes, 
Into the tropic sun. 

Into the northern snows. 
Fearlessly, on we'll go 

Into the cruel strife. 
Gladly the few shall die. 

Winning for many, life. 
Tyranny's wrongs must cease, 

Brutes must no longer brag, 
This is our work on earth, 

So we Vv^ill follow the Flag. 



63 



We've Had a Letter From the Boy 

We've had a letter from the boy, 
And oh, the gladness and the joy 
It brought to us ! We read it o'er 
I'd say a dozen times or more. 
We laughed until the teardrops fell 
At all the fun he had to tell. 
He's in the navy, wearing blue. 
And everything is all so new 
That he can see in youthful style 
The funny things to make us smile. 

He's working hard ! Between the lines 
We gather that. The brass he shines 
Without complaining, and the food 
He gets to eat is very crude. 
And yet he laughs at all his chores. 
He says the maid who scrubs our floors 
Will have to quit when he returns 
Unless a better way she learns. 
" I've got it on the fairer sex," 
Says he, " since I am swabbing decks." 

" A sailor's life, dear Mom," writes he, 
" Is not the life you picked for me. 
And yet I'm getting fat and strong 
And learning as I go along 
That any life a man can find 
Is apt to grow to be a grind 



Unless a fellow has the wit 
To see the brighter side of it. 
Don't worry for your sailor son; 
He sleeps well when his work is done." 

We've had a letter from the boy, 

And oh, the gladness and the joy 

It brought to us! 'Twas good to know 

That he is facing duty so. 

Between the lines that he had penned 

His mother's bitter fears to end, 

I saw his manhood glowing bright, 

And now I know his heart is right. 

Behind the laughter I could see 

My boy's the man Fd hoped he'd be. 



6s 



Eojempt 

They have said you needn't go to the front to 
face the foe; 
They have left you with your women and your 
children safe at home; 

They have spared you from the crash of the mur- 
derous guns that flash 
And the horrors and the madness and the death 
across the foam. 

But it*s your fight, just the same, and your coun- 
try still must claim 

' The splendor of your manhood and the best 
that you can do ; 

In a thousand different ways through the dark 
and troubled days, 
You must stand behind the nation that has been 
so good to you. 

You're exempt from shot and shell, from the 
havoc and the hell 
That have robbed the world of gladness; you 
have missed the sterner fate 

Of the brave young men and fine, that are fall- 
ing into line, 
You may stay among your children who are 
swinging on the gate. 

But you're not exempt from love of the Flag 
that flies above, 



66 



YouVe a greater obligation to your country 

to be true; 
You must work from day to day in a bigger, 

better way 
For the glory of the nation that has been so 

good to you. 

You are not exempt from trial, from long days of 
self-denial. 
From devotion to your homeland and from 
courage in the test. 
You are not exempt from giving to your coun- 
try's needs and living 
As a citizen and soldier — an example of the 
best. 
YouVe a harder task before you than the boys 
who' re fighting for you, 
You must match their splendid courage and de- 
votion through and through ; 
You must prove by fine endeavor, and by stand- 
ing constant ever 
That you're worthy of the country that has 
been so good to you. 



(f7 



Duty 

We know not where the path may lead nor what 

the end may be, 
The clouds are dark above us now, the future 

none can see, 
And yet when all the storms have passed, and 

cannons cease to roar. 
We shall be prouder of our flag than we have 

been before. 

We could not longer idle stay, spectators of a 

wrong. 
The weak were crying out for help against 

oppression strong; 
And though we pray we may be spared the 

bitterness of strife, 
'Twere better that we die than live the coward's 

feeble life. 

We could not longer silent sit, our glory at an 

end. 
And blind ourselves unto the wrongs committed 

by a friend; 
We must be tolerant with all, yet in these days 

of hate. 
Some things have happened that it would be 

shame to tokrate. 



68 



And now we stand before the world, erect and 

calm and grave, 
And speak the words that decency must rule the 

land and wave; 
Into the chaos of despair we fling ourselves 

to-day 
As guardians of a precious trust hate must not 

sweep away. 

We must rejoice, if we are men, not weak and 

soft of heart 
That w^e have heeded duty's call, and taken up 

our part. 
And when at last sweet peace shall come, and 

all the strife is o'er, 
We shall be prouder of our flag than we have 

been before, 



6^ 



A Prayer 

God grant to us the strength of men, 

The patience of the brave ; 
The wisdom to be silent, when 

The days with doubt are grave. 
When dangers come, as come they must, 

Throughout the trying hours 
Let us continue still to trust 

That triumph shall be ours. 

We have foresworn our days of ease 

To battle for the right, 
To venture over troubled seas 

Oppression's wrongs to fight. 
And we have pledged ourselves to grief. 

And bitter hurt and pain. 
Then must we cling to this belief: 

We suffer not in vain. 

God grant to us the strength of men, 

God help us to be true 
Until that glorious morning when 

The world shall smile anew. 
We shall be tested sore and tried, 

And flayed by many fears, 
Yet let us in this faith abide. 

That right shall rule the years. 



70 



Sympathy 

One came to the house with a pretty speech: 

" It's all for the best," said he, 
And I know that he sought my heart to reach, 

And I know that he grieved with me. 

But I was too full of my sorrow then 

To list to his words or care; 
Though I've tried I cannot recall again 

The comfort he gave me there. 

But another came, and his lips were dumb 

As he grasped me by the hand, 
And he stammered : " Old man, I had to come, 

Oh, I hope you'll understand." 

And ever since then I have felt his hand 

Clasped tightly in my own. 
And to-day his silence I understand — 

My sorrowing he had known. 



71 



Hate 

They say we must not hate, nor fight in hate. 

I've thought it over many a solemn hour, 
And cannot mildly view the man or state 
That has no thought, save only to be great; 

I cannot love the creature drunk with power. 
I hate the hand that slaughters babes at sea, 

I hate that will that orders wives to die. 
And there is something rises up in me 
When brutes run wild in crime and lechery 

That soft adjustments will not satisfy. 

r/Ien seldom fight the things they do not hate ; 

A vice grows strong on mildly tempered scorn ; 
Rank thrives the weed the gardeners tolerate ; 
You cannot stroke the snake that lies in wait. 

And change his nature with to-morrow's morn. 
If roses are to bloom, the weeds must go; 

Vice be dethroned if virtue is to reign; 
Honor and shame together cannot grow. 
Sin either conquers or we lay it low. 

Wrong must be hated if the truth remain. 

I hold that we must fight this war in hate — 

In bitter hate of blood in fury spilled; 
Of children, bending over book and slate, 
Slaughtered to make a Prussian despot great ; 
In hate of mothers pitilessly killed. 



72 



In hate of liars plotting wars for gain; 

In hate of crimes too black for printed page; 
In hate of wrongs that mark the tyrant's reign — 
And crush forever all within his train. 

Such hate shall be the glory of our age. 



General Pershing 

He isn't long on speeches. At the banquet table, 
he 

Could name a dozen places where he would much 
rather be. 

He's not one for fuss and feathers or for march- 
ing in review, 

But he's busy every minute when he's got a job 
to do. 

And you'll find him in the open, fighting hard 
and fighting square 

For the glory of his country when his boys get 
over there. 

He has listened to the cheering of the splendid 

folks of France, 
And he knows that he's the leader of America's 

advance. 
And he knows his task is mighty and that words 

will not avail, 



73 



So he's standing to his duty, for he isn't there 

to fail. 
And you'll find him cool and steady when the 

guns begin to flare, 
And he'll talk in deeds of glory when his boys 

get over there. 

He has gone to face the fury of the Prussian 
hordes that sweep 

O'er the fertile fields of Freedom, where the 
forms of heroes sleep, 

And it seems no time for talking or for laughter 
or for cheers. 

With the wounded all about him and their moan- 
ing in his ears. 

He is waiting for to-morrow, waiting there to 
do his share. 

And he'll strike a blow for freedom when his 
boys get over there. 



The Better Thing 

It is better to die for the flag, 

For its red and its white and its blue, 
Than to hang back and shirk and to lag 

And let the flag sink out of view. 
It is better to give up this life 
In the heat and the thick of the strife 
Than to live out your days 'neath a sky. 
Where Old Glory shall never more fly. 

The peace that we long for will be 
Far worse than the war that we dread 

If never again we're to see 

The blue, and the white and the red 

Wind-tossed and sun-kissed in the skies. 

If ever the Stars and Stripes dies 

Or loses its lustre and pride. 

We shall wish in our souls we had died. 

It is better by far that we die 

Than that flag shall pass out of the world ; 
If ever it ceases to fly. 

If ever it's hauled down and furled. 
Dishonor shall stamp us with shame 
And freedom be naught but a name. 
And the few years of dearly-bought breath 
Will be filled with worse horrors than death. 



75 



To a Lady Knitting 

Little woman, hourly sitting, 

Something for a soldier knitting, 

What in fancy can you see ? 

Many pictures come to me 

Through the stitch that now you're making 

I behold a bullet breaking; 

I can see some soldier lying 

In that garment slowly dying, 

And that very bit of thread 

In your fingers, turns to red. 

Gray to-day; perhaps to-morrow 

Crimsoned by the blood of sorrow. 

It may be some hero daring 

Shall that very thing be wearing 

When he ventures forth to give 

Life that other men may live. 

He may braver wield the saber 

As a tribute to your labor. 

And for that, which you have knitted, 

Better for his task be fitted. 

When the thread has left your finger, 

Something of yourself may linger. 

Something of your lovely beauty 

May sustain him in his duty. 

Some one's boy that was a baby 
Soon shall wear it, and it may be 

76 



He will write and tell his mother 
Of the kindness of another, 
And her spirit shall caress you, 
And her prayers at night shall bless you 
You may never know its story, 
Cannot know the grief or glory 
That are destined now and hover 
Over him your wool shall cover, 
Nor what spirit shall invade it 
Once your gentle hands have made it. 

Little woman, hourly sitting, 
Something for a soldier knitting, 
'Tis no common garb you're making. 
These, no com.mon pains you're taking. 
Something lovely, holy, lingers 
O'er the needles in your fingers 
And with every stitch you're weaving 
Something of yourself you're leaving. 
From your gentle hands and tender 
There may come a nation's splendor, 
And from this, your simple duty, 
Life may win a fairer beauty. 



77 



A Good Soldier 

He writes to us most every day, and how his 
letters thrill us! 

I can't describe the joys with which his quaint 
expressions fill us. 

He says the military life is not of his selection, 

He's only soldiering to-day to give the Flag pro- 
tection. 

But since he's in the army now and doing duties 
humble, 

He'll do what all good soldiers must, and he will 
never grumble. 

He's not so keen for standing guard, a lonely 

vigil keeping, 
" But when I must," he writes to us, " they'll 

never find me sleeping! 
I hear a lot of boys complain about the tasks 

they set us 
And there's no doubt that mother's meals can 

beat the ones they get us, 
But since I'm here to do my bit, close to the 

job I'm sticking; 
I'll take whatever comes my way and waste no 

word in kicking. 

" I'd Hke to be a captain, dad, a major or a 
colonel, 



78 



I'd like to get my picture in some illustrated 

journal ; 
I don't exactly fancy jobs that now and then 

come my way, 
Like picking bits of rubbish up that desecrate 

the highway. 
But still I'll do those menial tasks as cheerfully 

as could one, 
For while I am a private here I'm going to be 

a good one. 

"A soldier's life is not the way I'd choose to 

make my living, 
But now I'm in the ranks to serve, my best to 

it I'm giving. 
Oh, I could name a dozen jobs that I'd consider 

finer. 
But since I've got this one to do I'll never be a 

whiner. 
I'm just a private in the ranks, but take it from 

my letter, 
They'll never fire your son for one who'll do 

his duty better." 



79 



His Santa Claus 

He will not come to him this year with all his 

old-time joy, 
An imitation Santa Claus must serve his little 

boy; 
Last year he heard the reindeers paw the roof 

above his head, 
And as he dreamed the kindly saint tip-toed 

about his bed. 
But Christmas Eve he will not come by any happy 

chance ; 
This year his kindly Santa Claus must guard a 

trench in France. 

His mother bravely tries to smile ; last Christmas 
Eve was gay; 

Last Christmas morn his daddy rose at dawn with 
him to play; 

This year he'll hang his stocking by the chim- 
ney, but the hands 

That filled it with the joys he craved now serve 
in foreign lands. 

He is too young to understand his mother's 
troubled glance. 

But he that was his Santa Claus is in a trench 
in France. 

Somewhere in France this Christmas Eve a sol- 
dier brave will be, 

80 



And all that night in fancy he will trim a Christ- 
mas tree; 

And all that night he'll live again the joys that 
once he had 

When he was good St. Nicholas unto a certain 
lad. 

And he will wonder if his boy, by any sad mis- 
chance, 

Will find his stocking empty just because he 
serves in France, 



Si 



Show the Flag 

Show the flag and let it wave 
As a symbol of the brave ; 
Let it float upon the breeze 
As a sign for each who sees 
That beneath it, where it rides, 
Loyalty to-day abides. 

Show the flag and signify 
That it wasn't born to die; 
Let its colors speak for you 
That you still are standing true, 
True in sight of God and man 
To the work that flag began. 

Show the flag that all may see 

That you serve humanity. 

Let it whisper to the breeze 

That comes singing through the trees 

That whatever storms descend 

You'll be faithful to the end. 

Show the flag and let it fly, 
Cheering every passer-by — 
Men that may have stepped aside, 
May have lost their old-time pride. 
May behold it there, and then 
Consecrate themselves again. 



%2 



Show the flag! The day is gone 
When men bUndly hurry on 
Serving only gods of gold; 
Now the spirit that was cold 
Warms again to courage fine. 
Show the flag and fall in line ! 



The Honor Roll 

The boys upon the honor roll, God bless them 

all, I pray! 
God watch them when they sleep at night, and 

guard them through the day. 
We've stamped their names upon our walls, the 

list in glory grows, 
Our brave boys and our splendid boys who stand 

to meet our foes. 

Oh, here are sons of mothers fair and fathers 

fine and true, 
The little ones of yesterday, the children that 

we knew; 
We thought of them as youngsters gay, still 

laughing at their games, 
And then we found the honor roll emblazoned 

with their names. 



83 



We missed their laughter and their cheer; it 

seems but yesterday 
We had them here to walk with us, and now 

they've marched av/ay. 
And here where once their smiles were seen we 

keep a printed scroll; 
The absent boy we long to see is on the honor 

roll. 

So quickly did the summons com_e we scarcely 

marked the change, 
One day life marched its norm.al pace, the next 

all things seem.ed strange. 
And when we questioned where they were, the 

sturdiest of us all. 
We saw the silent honor roll on each familiar 

wall 

The laughter that we knew has gone; the merry 

voice of youth 
No longer rings where graybeards sit, discussing 

somxbre truth. 
No longer jests are flung about to rouse our 

weary souls, 
For they who meant so much to us are on our 

honor rolls. 



84 



The Princess Pats 

A touch of the plain and the prairie, 

A bit of the Motherland, too; 
A strain of the fur-trapper wary, 

A blend of the old and the new; 
A bit of the pioneer splendor 

That opened the wilderness' flats, 
A touch of the home-lover, tender, 

You'll find in the boys they call Pats. 

The glory and grace of the maple, 

The strength that is born of the wheat, 
The pride of a stock that is staple, 

The bronze of a midsummer heat; 
A blending of wisdom and daring, 

The best of a new land, and that's 
The regiment gallantly bearing 

The neat little title of Pats. 

A bit of the man who has neighbored 

With mountains and forests and streams, 
A touch of the man who has labored 

To model and fashion his dreams; 
The strength of an age of clean living. 

Of right-minded fatherly chats. 
The best that a land could be giving 

Is there in the breasts of the Pats. 



8s 



July the Fourth, 1917 

Time was the cry went round the world: 

America for freedom speaks, 
A new flag is today unfurled, 

An eagle on the mountain shrieks, 
A king is failing on his throne, 

A race of men defies his power! 
And no one could have guessed or known 

The burden of that splendid hour. 

A bell rang out that summer day 

And men and women stood and heard; 
That tongue of brass had more to say 

Than could be spoken by a word. 
It spoke the thoughts of honest men. 

It whispered Destiny's intents 
And rang a warning loudly then 

To Kinsrs of all the continents. 



^t)' 



The old bell in its holy loft 

Where pigeons nest, has ceased to swing 
And yet through many a day and oft 

A weary people hear it sing. 
That hour long years ago, when first 

America for freedom fought, 
The bonds of slavery were burst: 

That hour began the reign of thought. 



86 



Here comes another summer day: 

America is on the sea, 
America has dared to say 

That other people shall be free. 
No seliish stain her banner mars, 

Her flag, for truth and right, unfurled, 
With every stripe and all its stars 

Still speaks its message to the world. 

Out where the soldiers fight for men, 

Out where, for others, heroes die. 
Out where they storm the Tyrant's den. 

The Starry Banner lights the sky. 
And once again the cry goes out 

That brings the flush of hope to cheeks 
Grown pale by bitter war and doubt: 

" America for Freedom speaks." 



87 



Spring in the Trenches 

It's coming time for planting in that little patch 

of ground, 
Where the lad and I made merry as he followed 

me around; 
The sun is getting higher, and the skies above 

are blue. 
And I'm hungry for the garden, and I wish the 

war were through. 

But it's tramp, tramp, tramp, 

And it's never look behind. 
And when you see a stranger's kids. 

Pretend that you are blind. 

The spring is coming back again, the birds begin 

to mate ; 
The skies are full of kindness, but the world is 

full of hate. 
And it's I that should be bending now in peace 

above the soil. 
With laughing eyes and little hands about to bless 

the toil. 

But it's fight, fight, fight. 

And it's charge at double-quick; 

A soldier thinking thoughts of home 
Is one more soldier sick. 



88 



Last year I brought the bulbs to bloom and saw 

the roses bud; 
This year I'm ankle deep in mire, and most of 

it is blood. 
Last year the mother in the door was glad as 

she could be; 
To-day her heart is full of pain, and mine is 

hurting me. 

But it's shoot, shoot, shoot. 

And when the bullets hiss. 
Don't let the tears fill up your eyes, 

P'or weeping soldiers miss. 

Oh, who will tend the roses now and who will 
sow the seeds? 

And who will do the heavy work the little gar- 
den needs? 

And who will tell the lad of mine the things he 
wants to know. 

And take his hand and lead him round the paths 
we used to go? 

For it's charge, charge, charge, 
And it's face the foe once more; 

Forget the things you love the most 
And keep your m.ind on war. 



89 



Bigger Than His Dad 

He has heard his country caUing, and has fallen 
into line, 
And he's doing something bigger than his 
daddy ever did ; 
He has caught a greater vision than the finest one 
of mine, 
And I know today I'm prouder of than sorry 
for the kid. 

His speech is soft and vibrant with the messages 
of truth. 
And he says some things of duty that I can- 
not understand; 
It may be that I'm selfish, but this ending of his 
youth 
Is not the dream I cherished and it's not the 
thing I planned. 

I only know he's bigger in his uniform today 
Than I, who stand and watch him as he drills, 
have ever been; 
That he sees a greater vision of life's purpose 
far away, 
And a finer goal to die for than my eyes have 
ever seen. 

I wish I felt as he does, wish I had his sense of 
right; 

90 



With the vision he possesses I should be 
supremely glad; 
But I sometimes start to choking when I think 
of him at night — 

The boy that has grown bigger, yes, and bet- 
ter than his dad. 



The Boy's Adventure 

" Dear Father," he wrote me from Somewhere 

in France, 
Where he's waiting with Pershing to lead the 

advance, 
" There's little the censor permits me to tell 
Save the fact that I'm here and am happy and 

well. 
The French people cheered as we marched from 

our ship 
At the close of a really remarkable trip ; 
They danced and they screamed and they shouted 

and ran. 
And I blush as I write. I was kissed by a man ! 

" I've seen a great deal since I bade you good- 
bye, 
I have witnessed a battle far up in the sky; 

91 



I have heard the dull roar of a long line of guns, 
And seen the destruction that's worked by the 

Huns; 
Some scenes I'll remember, and some I'll forget, 
But the welcome he gave me ! I'm feeling it yet. 
Oh, try to imagine your boy if you can, 
As he looked and he felt, being kissed by a man! 

" ' Ah, Meestaire ! ' he cried in a voice that was 

shrill. 
And his queer little eyes with delight seemed to 

fill, 
And before I was wise to the custom, or knew 
Just what he was up to, about me he threw 
His arms, and he hugged me, and then with a 

squeak, 
He planted a chaste little kiss on each cheek. 
He was stocky and strong and his whiskers were 

tan. 
Now please keep it dark. I've been kissed by a 

man." 



92 



Out of It All 

Out of it all shall come splendor and gladness; 
Out of the madness and out of the sadness, 
Clearer and finer the world shall arise. 
Why then keep sorrow and doubt in your eyes? 

Joy shall be ours when the warfare is over; 
Children shall gleefully romp in the clover; 
Here with our heroes at home and at rest, 
We shall rejoice with the world at its best. 

Not in vain, not in vain, is our bright banner 

flying; 
Not for naught are the sons of our fond 

mothers dying; 
The gloom and despair are not ever to last; 
The world shall be better when they shall have 

passed. 

So mourn not his absence, but smile and be 

brave ; 
You shall have him again from the brink of 

the grave 
In a wonderful world 'neath a wonderful sun; 
He shall come to your arms with his victory 

won, 



93 



The Christmas Box 

Oh, we have shipped his Christmas box, with 

ribbons red 'tis tied. 
And he shall find the things he likes from them 

he loves inside, 
But he must miss the kisses true and all the 

laughter gay 
And he must miss the smiles of home upon his 

Christmas Day. 

He'll spend his Christmas 'neath the Flag; he'll 

miss each merry face. 
Old Glory smiling down on him must take his 

mother's place. 
Yet in the Christmas box we've sent, in fancy he 

will find 
The laughter and the tears of joy that he has 

left behind. 

His mother's tenderness is there, his father's 

kindly way. 
And all that went last year to make his merry 

Christmas Day; 
He'll see once more his sister's smile, he'll hear 

the baby shout. 
And as he opens every gift we'll gather round 

about. 

He cannot come to share with us the joys of 
Christmas Day; 

94 



The Flag has called to him, and he is serving 
far away. 

Undaunted, unafraid and fine he stands to duty 
grim, 

And so this Christmas we have tried to ship our- 
selves to him. 



A Plea 

God grant me these : the strength to do 

Some needed service here ; 
The wisdom to be brave and true ; 

The gift of vision clear, 
That in each task that comes to me 
Some purpose I may plainly see. 

God teach me to believe that I 

Am stationed at a post. 
Although the humblest 'neath the sky. 

Where I am needed most. 
And that, at last, if I do well, 
My humble services will tell. 

God grant me faith to stand on guard, 

Uncheered, unspoke, alone, 
And see behind such duty hard 

My service to the throne. 
Whate'er my task, be this my creed: 
I am on earth to fill a need. 

95 



Your Country Needs You 

The country needs a man like you, 
It has a task for you to do. 
It has a job for you to face. 
Somewhere for you it has a place. 
Not all the slackers dodge the work 
Of service where the cannon lurk, 
Not all the slackers on life's stage 
Are boys of military age. 
The old, the youthful and unfit 
Must also do their little bit. 

The country needs a man like you, 
'Twill suffer if you prove untrue. 
What though you cannot bear a gun? 
That isn't all that's to be done. 
There are a thousand other ways 
To serve your country through the days 
Of trial and the nights of storm. 
You need not wear a uniform 
Or with the men in council sit 
To serve the Flag and do your bit. 

Somewhere for you there is a place. 
Somewhere you have a task to face. 
There's none so helpless or so frail 
That cannot, when our foes assail. 
In some way help our common cause 
And be deserving of applause. 

96 



Behind the Flag we all must be. 
Each at his post, awake to see 
That in so far as he has striven, 
His best was to his country given. 

You can be patient, brave and strong. 
And not complain when plans go wrong; 
You can be cheerful at your toil, 
Or till, perhaps, some patch of soil ; 
You can encourage others who 
Have heavier, greater tasks to do; 
You can be loyal, not in creed 
Alone, but in each thought and deed ; 
You can make sacrifices, too. 
The country needs a man like yoUv 



97 



A Creed 

To keep in mind from day to day 
That I'm a soldier in the fray; 
That I must serve, from sun to sun. 
As well as he who bears a gun 
The flag that flies above us all, 
And answer well my Country's call. 

I must not for one hour forget 
Unto the Stars and Stripes my debt. 
'Twas spotless on my day of birth, 
And when at last I quit this earth 
Old Glory still must spotless be 
For all who follow after me. 

At some post where my work will fit 
I must with courage do my bit ; 
Some portion of myself I'd give 
That freedom and the Flag may live. 
And in some way I want to feel 
That I am doine service real. 



'& 



I miust in all I say and do 
Respect the red, the white and blue*, 
Nor dim with petty deeds of shame 
The splendor of Old Glory's fame ; 
I must not let my standards drag, 
For my disgrace would stain the Flag, 



98 



The Struggle 

Life is a struggle for peace, 

A longing for rest, 
A hope for the battles to cease, 

A dream for the best; 
And he is not living who stays 

Contented with things, 
Unconcerned with the work of the days 

And all that it brings. 

He is dead who sees nothing to change, 

No wrong to make right; 
Who travels no new way or strange 

In search of the Hght; 
Who never sets out for a goal 

That he sees from afar 
But contents his indifferent soul 

With things as they are. 

Life isn't rest — it is toil; 

It is building a dream; 
It is tilling a parcel of soil 

Or bridging a stream; 
It's pursuing the light of a star 

That but dimly we see, 
And in wresting from things as they are 

The joy that should be. 



99 



As It Looks to the Boy 

His comrades have enlisted, but his mother bids 

him stay, 
His soul is sick with coward shame, his head 

hangs low to-day, 
His eyes no longer sparkle, and his breast is 

void of pride 
And I think that she has lost him though she's 

kept him at her side. 
Oh, I'm sorry for the mother, but I'm sorrier 

for the lad 
Who must look on life forever as a hopeless 

dream and sad. 

He must fancy men are sneering as they see 

him walk the street. 
He will feel his cheeks turn crimson as his eyes 

another's meet; 
And the boys and girls that knew him as he was 

but yesterday. 
Will not seem to smile upon him, in the old 

familiar way. 
He will never blame his mother, but when he's 

alone at night, 
His thoughts will flock to tell him that he isn't 

doing right. 

Oh, I'm sorry for the mother from whose side 
a boy must go, 

lOO 



And the strong desire to keep him that she feels, 

I think I know, 
But the boy that she's so fond of has a Hfe to 

hve on earth. 
And he hungers to be busy with the work that is 

of worth. 
He will sicken and grow timid, he'll be flesh 

without a heart 
Until death at last shall claim him, if he doesn't 

do his part. 

Have you kept him, gentle mother ? Has he lost 
his old-time cheer? 

Is he silent, sad and sullen? Are his eyes no 
longer clear? 

Is he growing weak and flabby who but yester- 
day was strong? 

Then a secret grief he's nursing and I'll tell you 
what is wrong. 

All his comrades have departed on their coun- 
try's noblest work, 

And he hungers to be with them — it is not his 
wish to shirk. 



lOI 



Fly a Clean Flag 

This I heard the Old Flag say 

As I passed it yesterday: 

" Months ago your friendly hands 

Fastened me on slender strands 

And with patriotic love 

Placed me here to wave above 

You and yours. I heard you say 

On that long departed day: 

* Flag of all that's true and fine. 

Wave above this house of mine; 

Be the first at break of day 

And the last at night to say 

To the world this word of cheer : 

Loyalty abideth here.' 

" Here on every wind that's blown, 
O'er your portal I have flown ; 
Rain and snow have battered me, 
Storms at night have tattered me ; 
Dust of street and chimney stack 
Day by day have stained me black, 
And I've watched you passing there, 
Wondering how much you care. 
Have you noticed that your flag. 
Is to-day a wind-blown rag? 
Has your love so careless grown 
By the long neglect you've shown 

102 



That you never raise your eye 
To the symbol that you fly ? " 

" Flag, on which no stain has been^ 
'Tis my sin that you're unclean," 
Then I answered in my shame. 
" On my head must lie the blame. 
Now with patriotic hands 
I release you from your strands. 
And a spotless flag shall fly 
Here to greet each passer-by. 
Nevermore shall Flag of mine 
Be a sad and sorry sign 
Telling all who look above 
I neglect the thing I love. 
But my Flag of faith shall be 
Fit for every eye to see." 



103 



To a Kindly Critic 

If it's wrong to believe in the land that we love, 
And to pray for Our Flag to the good God above ; 
If it's wrong to believe that Our Country is best; 
That honor's her standard, and truth is her crest ; 
If placing her first in our prayers and our song 
Is false to true reason, we're glad to be wrong. 

If it's wrong to wish victory day after day 
For the troops of Our Country now marching 

away ; 
If it's wrong to believe they are moved by the 

right 
And not by the love and the lure of the fight; 
If to cheer them to battle and bid them be strong 
Is false to right thinking, then let us be wrong. 

If it's wrong to believe in America's dreams 
Of a freedom on earth that's as real as it seems; 
If it's error to cherish the hope, through and 

through. 
That the Stars in Old Glory's immaculate blue 
Shall shine through the ages, true beacons to men, 
We pray that no right phrase shall flow from our 

pen. 



104 



War's Homecoming 

We little thought how much they meant — the 

bleeding hearts of France, 
And British mothers wearing black to mark some 

troop's advance. 
The war was, O, so distant then, the grief so 

far away, 
We couldn't see the weeping eyes, nor hear the 

women pray. 
We couldn't sense the weight of woe that rested 

on that land, 
But now our boy is called to go — to-day, we 

understand. 

There, some have heard the blackest news that 

o'er the wires has sped. 
And some are living day by day beneath the 

clouds of dread; 
Some fear the worst; some know the worst, but 

every heart is chilled. 
And every soul is sorrow touched and laughter 

there is stilled. 
There, old folks sit alone and grieve and pray 

for peace to come, 
And now our little boy has heard the summons of 

the drum. 

Their grief was such a distant thing, we made 
it fruit for speech. 

105 



We never thought in days of old such pain our 

hearts would reach. 
We talked of it, as people do of sorrow far aloof, 
Nor dreamed such care would ever dwell beneath 

our happy roof. 
But England's woes are ours to-day, we share the 

sighs of France; 
Our little boy is on the sea with Death to take 

his chance. 



Next of Kin 

I notice when the news comes in 

Of one who's claimed eternal glory. 
This simple phrase, *' the next of kin," 

Concludes the soldier's final story. 
This tells the world what voice will choke. 
What heart that bit of shrapnel broke. 
What father or what mother brave 
Will think of Flanders as a grave. 

" The next of kin," the cable cold 
Wastes not a precious word in telling, 

Yet cannot you and I behold 

The sorrow in some humble dwelling, 

lo6 



And cannot you and I perceive 
The brave yet lonely mother grieve 
And picture, when that news comes in, 
The anguish of " the next of kin? " 

For every boy in uniform, 

Another soldier brave is fighting; 
A double rank the cannons storm. 
Two lines the cables are uniting, 
And with the hurt each soldier feels, 
At home the other warrior reels; 
Two suffer, freedom's cause to win: 
The soldier and " the next of kin." 

Oh, next of kin, be brave, be strong, 

As brave as was the boy that's missing; 
The years will many be and long 

That you will hunger for his kissing. 
Yet he enlisted you with him 
To share war's bitter price and grim; 
Your service runs through many years 
Because your name with his appears. 



See It Through 

There are many to cheer when the battle begins, 

There are many to shout for the right; 
There are many to rail at the world and its sins, 

But few have the grit for the fight. 
There are thousands to start with a rush for the 
fray 

When the fighting seems easy to do. 
But when danger is present and rough is the 
way. 

The few have to see the job through. 

It is easy to quit with a battle unwon, 

It is hard to press on to success ; 
It is easy to stop with a purpose undone, 

It is hard to encounter distress. 
And many will march when the roadway is clear 

And the glorious goal is in view, 
But the many, too often, when dangers appear. 

Aren't willing to see the fight through. 

They weaken in spirit when trials grow great, 
They flinch at the clashing of steel; 

They talk of the strength of the foe at the gate 
And whine at the hurts that they feel. 

They begin to regret having ventured for right. 
They sigh that they dared to be true, 



io8 



They haven't the heart they once had for the 
fight, 
They don't want to see the job through. 

We have set out to battle for justice and truth, 

We have fearful disasters to meet; 
We shall weep for the best of our manliest youth, 

We shall suffer the pangs of defeat. 
But let us stand firm for the cause that we plead. 

Let the many be brave with the few; 
The cry of the quitter let none of us heed 

Till we've done what we started to do. 

DonH Overdo It 

We've come from the mud and the dirt and 

the slime of it. 
Out of the blood and the hurt and the crime 

of it. 
Some of us limping on crutches, and some 
Minus an eye or an arm or a thumb, 
More or less shattered by shrapnel and battered — 
Still for all that we don't want to be flattered. 

We've known the click of the steel and the brunt 

of it — 
Heard and grown sick of the squeal at the front 

of it — 
Wallowed in blood that our comrades had shed, 
Carried the wounded and buried the dead; 

109 



Bullets have splattered around us and clattered — 
Still for all that we don't want to be flattered. 

While with a song or a cheer we all went over, 
Many as strong waited here to be sent over; 
They would have shared each triumphant ad- 
vance — 
Suffered and died, too; they yearned for the 

chance. 
Fate sent us to it, but now that we're through it 
Cheer us a little, but don't overdo it. 



no 



The Gold Givers 

Oh, some shall stand in glory's light v/hen all 

the strife is done, 
And many a mother there shall say, " For truth 

I gave my son ! " 
But I shall stand in silence then and hear the 

stories brave, 
For I must answer at the last that gold is all 

I gave. 

When all this age shall pass away, and silenced 

are the guns, 
When sweethearts join their loves again, and 

mothers kiss their sons. 
When brave unto the brave return, and all they 

did is told. 
How pitiful my gift shall seem, when all I gave 

is gold. 

When we are asked what did you then, when 

all the world was red, 
And some shall say, " I fell in France," and 

some, " I mourned my dead ;" 
With all the brave assembled there in glory long 

to live. 
How trivial our Hves shall seem who had but 

gold to give. 



Ill 



The Undaunted 

He tried to travel No Man's Land, that's guarded 

well with guns, 
He tried to race the road of death, where never 

a coward runs. 
Now he's asking of his doctor, and he's panting 

hard for breath. 
How soon he will be ready for another bout with 

death. ■• 

You'd think if you had wakened in a shell hole's 

slime and mud 
That was partly dirty water, but was mostly 

human blood. 
And you had to lie and suffer till the bullets 

ceased to hum 
And the night time dropped its cover, so the 

stretcher boys could come — 

You'd think if you had suffered from a fever 

and its thirst, 
And could hear the " rapids " spitting and the 

high explosives burst. 
And had lived to tell that story — you could face 

your fellow men 
In the little peaceful village, though you never 

fought again. 



112 



You'd think that once you'd fallen in the shrap- 
nel's deadly rain, 

Once you'd shed your blood for honor, you had 
borne your share of pain; 

Once you'd traveled No Man's country, you'd be 
satisfied to quit 

And be invalided homeward, and could say you'd 
done your bit. 

But he's lying, patched and bandaged, very white 

and very weak, 
And he's trying to be cheerful, though it's agony 

to speak; 
He is pleading with the doctor, though he's 

panting hard for breath. 
To return him to the trenches for another bout 

with death. 



113 



Tlie Discovery of a Soul 

The proof of a man is the danger test. 
That shows him up at his worst or best. 

He didn't seem to care for work, he wasn't much 

at school. 
His speech was slow and commonplace — you 

wouldn't call him fool. 
And yet until the war broke out you'd calmly 

pass him by, 
For nothing in his makeup or his way would 

catch your eye. 
He seemed indifferent to the world, the kind that 

doesn't care- — 
That's satisfied with just enough to eat and drink 

and wear; 
That doesn't laugh when others do or cry when 

others weep, 
But seems to walk the wakeful world half dor- 
mant and asleep; 
Then came the war, and soldiers marched and 

drums began to roll, 
And suddenly we reaHzed his body held a soul. 

We little dreamed how much he loved his Coun- 
try and her Flag; 

About the glorious Stars and Stripes we'd never 
heard him brag. 



xr4 



But he was first to volunteer, while brilliant men 

demurred, 
He took the oath of loyalty without a faltering 

word. 
And then we found that he could talk, for one 

remembered night, 
There came a preaching pacifist denouncing men 

who fight, 
And he got up in uniform and looked at him 

and said: 
" I wonder if you ever think about our soldiers 

dead. 
All that you are to-day you owe some soldier in 

his grave; 
If he had been afraid to fight, you still would be 

a slave." 

If he had died a year ago Ibeneath a peaceful 
sky. 

Unjust our memory would have been; of him our 
tongues would lie. 

We should have missed his splendid worth, we 
should have called him frail 

And listed him among the weak and sorry men 
who fail. 

But few regrets had marked his end; he would 
have passed unmourned — 

Perhaps by those who knew him best, indiffer- 
ently scorned. 



115 



But now lie stands among us all, eyes bright and 
shoulders true, 

A strong defender of the faith; a man with 
work to do; 

And if he dies, his name shall find its place on 
history's scroll; 

The great chance has revealed to men the splen- 
dor of his soul. 



Here We Are! 

Here we are, Britain! the finest and best of us 
Taking our coats off and rolling our sleeves, 
Answering the thoughtless that once made a jest 

of us, 
Each man a soldier for what he believes. 
Here we are, tight little island, in unity! 
Tell us the job that you want us to do! 
You can depend on us all vv^ith impunity. 
Give us a task and we'll all see it through. 

Here we are, France! every Yankee born man 

of us 
Coming to stand by your side in the fight; 
Liberty's cause makes a whole-hearted clan of us. 
Here v/e are, willing to die for the right. 
Silently, long from our shores we've admired you, 
Secretly proud of the pluck you've displayed. 

ii6 



Brothers we are of the love that inspired you; 
Nov/ v/e are coming, full front, to your aid. 

Here we are, Allies! make room in your 

trenches 1 
Shoulder to shoulder we'll share in each drive. 
Here we are ! quitting our lathes and our benches, 
Bringing our best that our best shall survive. 
Here we are! Liberty's children, red-blooded, 
Coming to share in the struggle with you. 
Ready to die for the Flag that's star-studded; 
Tell us the work that you want us to do. 

What is it, fighting or building you're needing? 

Boring a mountain or bridging a stream. 

Steel work and real work? Your call we are 

heeding. 
Each of us here is a man with a dream. 
Here we are! tacklers of tough jobs and dangers, 
Any old post wdiere you put us v/e'll fit ; 
Com.ing to serve you as brothers, not strangers; 
Here we are, Allies ! to offer our bit ! 



117 



We Who Stay at Home 

When you were just our little boy, on many a 

night we crept 
Unto your cot and watched o'er you, and all the 

time you slept. 
We tucked the covers round your form and 

smoothed your pillow, too, 
And sometimes stooped and kissed your cheeks, 

but that- you never knew. 
Just as we came to you back then through many 

a night and day. 
Our spirits now shall come to you — to kiss and 

watch and pray. 

Whenever you shall look away into God's patch 
of sky 

To think about the folks at home, we shall be 
standing by. 

And as we prayed and watched o'er you when 
you were wrapped in sleep, 

So through your soldier danger now the old- 
time watch we'll keep. 

You will not know that we are there, you will 
not see or hear. 

But all the time in prayer and thought we shall 
be very near. 

The world has made of you a man; the work 
of man you do, 

ii8 



But unto us you still remain the baby that we 

knew; 
And we shall come, as once we did, on wondrous 

wings of prayer. 
And you will never know how oft in spirit we 

are there. 
We'll stand beside your bed at night, in silence 

bending low, 
And all the love we gave you then, shall follow 

where you go. 

Oh, we were proud of you back then, but we 

are prouder now; 
We see the stamp of splendor God has placed 

upon your brow. 
And we who are the folks at home shall pray 

the old time prayer. 
And ask the God of Mercy to protect you with 

His care. 
And as we came to you of old, although you 

never knew. 
The hearts of us, each day and night, shall come 

with love to you. 



119 



Do Your All 

" Do your bit ! " How cheap and trite 
Seems that phrase in such a fight! 
" Do your bit ! " That cry recall, 
Change it now to " Do your all ! " 
Do your all, and then do more ; 
Do what you're best fitted for; 
Do your utmost, do and give, 
You have but one life to live. 

Do your finest, do your best. 
Don't let up and stop to rest, 
Don't sit back and idly say: 
" I did something yesterday." 
Come on! Here's another hour, 
Give it all you have of power. 
Here's another day that needs 
Everybody's share of deeds. 

" Do your bit ! " of course, but then 
Do it time and time again ; 
Giving, doing, all should be 
Up to full capacity. 
Now's no time to pick and choose, 
We've a war we must not lose. 
Be your duty great or small, 
Do it well and do it all. 



1 20 



Do by careful, patient living, 
Do by cheerful, open giving; 
Do by serving day by day 
At whatever post you may; 
Do by sacrificing pleasure. 
Do by scorning hours of leisure. 
Now to God and country give 
Every minute that you live. 



The Future 



9$ 



" The worst is yet to come : 
So wail the doubters glum, 
But here's the better view: 
" My best I've yet to do." 

The worst some always fear; 
To-morrow holds no cheer. 
Yet farther on life's lane 
Are joys you shall attain. 

Go forward bravely, then. 
And play your part as men. 
For this is ever true: 
" Our best we've yet to do." 



121 



A Father's Prayer 

I sometimes wonder when I read the sorrow in 
his face 

If I shall wear that look of care when time has 
marched apace ? 

My little boy is five years old and his is twenty- 
one; 

My little boy is home with me; his boy to war 
has gone. 

And I can laugh and dance with life, and I can 

gayly jest, 
But heavy is the heart today that beats within his 

breast. 
Time was, his boy was five years old; time was 

he smiled as I ; 
I wonder what awaits for me when youth has 
. journeyed by? 

Last night I sat at home and watched my little 

boy at play, 
And all the time I thought of him whose bo}'' 

has gone away. 
And in the joy that I possessed I prayed in 

silence then 
That God would quickly bring him back his little 

boy again. 



122 



The Glory of Age 

"What is the glory of age?" I said, 

"A hoard of gold and a few dear friends? 

When you've reached the day that you look ahead 
And see the place where your journey ends, 

When Time has robbed you of youthful might — 

What is the secret of your delight ? " 

And an old man smiled as he answered me: 
" The glory of age isn't gold or friends, 

When we've reached the valley of Soon-To-Be 
And note the place where our journey ends; 

The glory of age, be it understood. 

Is a boy out there who is making good. 

" The greatest joy that can come to man 
When his sight is dim and his hair is gray; 

The greatest glory that God can plan 
To cheer the lives of the old to-day. 

When they share no more in the battle yell, 

Is a boy out there who is doing well.'* 



123 



Beautifying the Flag 

To us the Flag has Httle meant. 

Each glorious stripe of red 
Was woven there to represent 

The blood of heroes dead. 
On some dim, distant battle line 

By other men were gained 
The glories that have made it fine, 

And idle we've remained. 
But now the Flag shall finer grow 

And ages yet to be 
Shall find the courage that we show 

To-day for liberty. 

Of other men the Flag has told; 

It flies for others' deeds; 
Its pride is born of heroes bold 

Who served its bygone needs. 
But now our blood shall mingle there 

With blood of patriots dead, 
And through the years each stripe shall weai 

A deeper, truer red. 
The splendor of the flag shall gleam 

In every radiant star^ 
And finer shall the banner seem 

Because of what we are. 



124 



To-day new glory for the Flag 

We give our best to build; 
Of us shall future ages brag, 

By us their blood be thrilled; 
And as to us the flag has meant 

The greatness of the past, 
The Stars and Stripes shall represent 

Our courage to the last. 
The children in the years to be 

Our trials shall discuss, 
And cheer the emblem of the free, 

In part, because of us. 



The Soldier Hometvard Bound 

Home to the folks with tender eyes, 
Hom.e to the old, familiar skies 
And the mother smile and the gentle hand, 
Home once more to my native land — 
What sweeter song can a soldier sing 
After the battle's thundering? 

Home once more with the warfare done, 
And the faith well kept and the victory won, 
Home to rest at the mother's knee, 
Home to the sister who trusted me, 
Home to the walls that with music ring — 
What sv/eeter song can a soldier sing? 

125 



Home to them that I love the best, 
Home to the nights that are sweet with rest, 
Home to the friends that are staunch and true, 
Home to the red and the white and blue, 
Home, where honor is crowned the king — 
What sweeter song can the soldier sing? 

The lanes were strange that I trod by day, 
And sad were the faces along the way; 
I longed for the country of friendly men. 
And now I am nearing its shores again. 
Let bugle and trumpet gayly sound 
The joy of a soldier homeward bound! 



126 



From Laughter to Labor 

We have wandered afar in our hunting for 

pleasure, 
We have scorned the soul's duty to gather up 

treasure ; 
We have lived for our laughter and toiled for 

our winning 
And paid little heed to the soul's simple sinning. 
But light were the burdens that freighted us then, 
God and country, to-day let us prove we are 

men! 

We have idled and dreamed in life's merriest 

places, 
The years have writ httle of care in our faces; 
We have brought up our children, expectant of 

gladness, 
And little we've taught them of life and its 

sadness. 
For divStant and dim seemed the forces of wrong, 
God and country, to-day let us prove we are 

strong ! 

We have had our glad years, now the sad years 
are coming, 

We have danced to gay tunes, now we march to 
war's drumming. 

We have laughed and have loved as we pleas- 
antly toiled, 

127 



And now we must show that our souls are 

unspoiled. 
We must work that our Flag shall in honor still 

wave, 
God and country, to-day let us prove we are 

brave ! 



United 

Forgotten petty difference now, 

The larger purpose glows, 
The storm is here, a common fear 

Its deadly lightning shows. 
The Ship of State must bear us all 

And danger makes us kin. 
As one, we all shall rise or fall, 

So shall we strive to win. 

Our banner's flying at the mast, 

Our course lies straight ahead; 
The ocean's trough is deep and rough, 

The waves are stained with red. 
The bond of danger tighter grows. 

We serve a common plan; 
Send o'er the sea the word that we 

Are all American. 

128 



One hundred million sturdy souls 

Once more united stand, 
As one, you will find them all behind 

The banner of our land. 
And side by side they work to-day 

In silken garb or rag. 
And once again our troops of men 

Are brothers of the flag. 

And from the storm that hovers low, 

And from the angry sea 
Where dangers lurk and hate's at work. 

Shall come new victory. 
The flag shall know not race nor creed, 

Nor different bands of men; 
A people strong round it shall throng 

To ne'er divide again. 



i2g 



April Thoughts 

Listen to the laughter of the brook that's racin' 
by! 
Listen to the chatter of the black-birds on the 
fence ! 
Stand an' see the beauties of the blue that's in the 
sky — 
Then ask of God why mortals haven't any 
better sense 
Than to quarrel an' to battle 
Where the guns an' cannon rattle 

An' to slaughter one another an' to fill the 
world with hate. 
God brings the buds to blossom 
Where the gentle breezes toss 'em 

An' the soul is blind to beauty that takes 
anger for its mate. 

Listen to the singin' of the robins in the trees ! 
See the sunbeams flashin' where they're mir- 
rored by the stream! 
Hear the drowsy buzzin' of the honey-seekin' 
bees, 
Then draw a little closer to your God the while 
you dream. 
When the world is dressed to cheer you 
Don't you feel Him standin' near you? 

When your soul drinks in the beauty of the 
wonders in His plan, 

130 



An' you've put away your passions, 
Don't you think the works He fashions 

In their beauty an' their bigness mock the lit- 
tleness of man? 

Oh, I never walk an orchard nor a field with 
daisies strewn. 
An' I never stand bare-headed gazin' every- 
where about 
At the living joys around me, be it morning, 
night or noon, 
But I ask God to forgive me that I ever held 
a doubt. 
Surely men must walk in blindness, 
With the whole world tuned to kindness. 

An' all dumb an' feathered creatures fairly 
bubblin' o'er with glee 
To devote themselves to madness 
That can only end in sadness 

An' to think that they are being what God 
put them here to be. 



131 



The Chaplain 

He was just a small church parson when the 
war broke out, and he 

Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons 
that we see. 

He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked 
his vest behind, 

But he had a man's religion and he had a strong 
man's mind. 

And he heard the call to duty, and he quit his 
church and went. 

And he bravely tramped right with 'em every- 
where the boys were sent. 

He put aside his broadcloth and he put the 

khaki on; 
Said he'd come to be a soldier and was going 

to live like one. 
Then he refereed the prize fights that the boys 

pulled off at night. 
And if no one else was handy he'd put on the 

gloves and fight. 
He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the sol- 

diers' needs. 
And he said : " I'm done with preaching ; this 

is now the time for deeds." 

He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tell 
the size of shell 

132 



From the shriek it make above him, and he knew 

just where it fell. 
In the front line trench he labored, and he knew 

the feel of mud. 
And he didn't run from danger and he wasn't 

scared of blood. 
He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheered 

them with his jokes. 
And he never made a visit without passing round 

the smokes. 

Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt be- 
side a lad 

Who was " going west " right speedy, and they 
both seemed mighty glad, 

'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he 
smiled and whispered low, 

" Now you needn't fear the journey; over there 
with you I'll go." 

And they both passed out together, arm in arm 
I think they went. 

He had kept his vow to follow everywhere the 
boys were sent. 



133 



My Part 

I may never be a hero, I am past the limit now, 
There are pencil marks of silver Time has left 

upon my brow; 
I shall win no service medals, I shall hear no 

cannons' roar, 
I shall never fight a battle higher up than eagles 

soar, 
But I hope my children's children may recall my 

name with pride 
As a man who never whimpered when his soul 

was being tried. 

For the fighting and the dying for the everlast- 
ing truth 

Are the labors designated for the strongest of 
our youth. 

And the man that's nearing forty isn't asked to 
march away, 

For there is no place in battle for the head that's 
turning gray. 

His test is one of patience till the bitter work is 
done, 

He must back his country's leaders till the vic- 
tory is won. 

When this bitter time is ended I don't want to 
have it said 



134 



That I faltered in my courage and I never looked 

ahead, 
I don't want it told I added to the burdens and 

the woe, 
By preaching dismal doctrines that were cheering 

to the foe ; 
I want my children's children to respect me and 

to find 
That my soul was out there fighting, though my 

body stayed behind. 

When this cruel test is over and the boys come 

back from France 
I'd not have them say I hindered for a moment 

their advance ; 
That they found their duty harder than 'twas 

needful it should be 
Because of the complaining of a lot of men like 

me. 
Though I'll win no hero's medals and deserve no 

wild applause, 
I want to be of service, not a hindrance to the 

cause. 



135 



The Call 

Some will heed the call to arms, 

But all must heed the call to grit ; 
The dreamers on the distant farms 

Must rally now to do their bit. 
The whirring lathes in factories great 

Will sing the martial songs of strife; 
Upon the emery wheel of fate 

We're grinding now the nation's life. 

The call is not alone to guns, 

This is not but a battle test ; 
The world has summoned free men's sons 

In every field to do their best. 
The call has come to every man 

To reach the summit of his powers; 
To stand to service where he can; 

A mighty duty now is ours. 

We must be stalwarts in the field 

Where peace has always kept her throne, 
No door against the need is sealed, 

No man today can live alone. 
The young apprentice at the bench. 

The wise inventor, old and gray. 
Serve with the soldier in the trench, 

All warriors for the better day. 



136 



Oh, man of science, unto you 

The call for service now has come ! 
Mechanic, banker, lawyer, too. 

Have you not heard the stirring drum ? 
Oh, humble digger in the ditch. 

Bend to your spade and do your best. 
And prove America is rich 

In manhood fine for every test. 

Each man beneath the starry flag 

Must live his noblest through the strife, 
If tyranny is not to drag 

Into the mire the best of life. 
Though some will wear our uniform, 

We face to-day a common fate 
And all must bravely breast the storm 

And heed the call for courage great. 



137 



Thanksgiving . 

For strength to face the battle's might, 
For men that dare ta die for right, 
For hearts above the lure of gold 

And fortune's soft and pleasant way. 
For courage of our days of old. 
Great God of All, we kneel and pray. 

We thank Thee for our splendid youth. 
Who fight for liberty and truth. 

Within whose breasts there glows anew 

The glory of the altar fires 
Which our heroic fathers knew — 
God make them worthy of their sires! 

We thank Thee for our mothers fair 
Who through the sorrows they must bear 
Still smile, and give their hearts to woe. 
Yet bravely heed the day's command — 
That mothers, yet to be, may know 
A free and glorious motherland. 

Oh, God, we thank Thee for the skies 
Where our flag now in glory flies! 
We thank Thee that no love of gain 

Is leading us, but that we fight 
To keep our banner free from stain 
And that we die for what is right. 



138 



Oh, Grod, we thank Thee that we may 
Lift up our eyes to Thee to-day; 

We thank Thee we can face this test 

With honor and a spotless name, 
And that we serve a world distressed 
Unselfishly and free from shame. 



A Patriotic Wish 

I'd like to be the sort of man the flag could boast 
about ; 

I'd like to be the sort of man it cannot live with- 
out; 

I'd like to be the type of man 

That really is American : 

The head-erect and shoulders-square. 

Clean-minded fellow, just and fair, 

That all men picture when they see 

The glorious banner of the free. 

I'd like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies. 
The kind of man we really want the flag to 

symbolize ; 
The loyal brother to a trust, 
The big, unselfish soul and just, 
The friend of every man oppressed, 
The strong support of all that's best — 



139 



The sturdy chap the banner's meant. 
Where'er it flies, to represent. 

I'd Hke to be the sort of man the flag's supposed 

to mean, 
The man that all in fancy see, wherever it is 

seen; 
The chap that's ready for a fight 
Whenever there's a wrong to right. 
The friend in every time of need, 
The doer of the daring deed, 
The clean and generous handed man 
That is a real American. 



A Patriot 

It's funny when a feller wants to do his little bit, 
And wants to wear a uniform and lug a soldier's 

kit. 
And ain't afraid of submarines nor mines that 

fill the sea. 
They will not let him go along to fight for liberty. 
They make him stay at home and be his mother's 

darHng pet, 
But you can bet there'll come a time when they 

will want me yet. 



140 



I want to serve the Stars and Stripes, I want to 

go and fight, 
I want to Hck the Kaiser good, and do the job 

up right. 
I know the way to use a gun and I can dig a 

trench 
And I would Hke to go and help the English and 

the French. 
But no, they say, you cannot march away to 

stirring drums; 
Be mother's angel boy at home; stay there and 

twirl your thumbs. 

I've read about the daring boys that fight up in 
the sky; 

It seems to me that that must be a splendid way 
to die. 

I'd like to drive an aeroplane and prove my cour- 
age grim 

And get above a German there and drop a bomb 
on him. 

But they won't let me go along to help the latest 
drive ; 

They say my mother needs me here because I'm 
only fiYQ. 



141 



Memorial Day 

The finest tribute we can pay 
Unto our hero dead to-day, 
Is not a rose wreath, white and red, 
In memory of the blood they shed ; 
It is to stand beside each mound. 
Each couch of consecrated ground, 
And pledge ourselves as warriors true 
Unto the work they died to do. 

Into God's valleys where they lie 
At rest, beneath the open sky. 
Triumphant now, o'er every foe. 
As living tributes let us go. 
No wreath of rose or immortelles 
Or spoken word or tolling bells 
Will do to-day, unless we give 
Our pledge that liberty shall live. 

Our hearts must be the roses red 
We place above our hero dead ; 
To-day beside their graves we must 
Renew allegiance to their trust ; 
Must bare our heads and humbly say 
We hold the Flag as dear as they. 
And stand, as once they stood, to die 
To keep the Stars and Stripes on high. 



142 



The finest tribute we can pay 

Unto our hero dead to-day 

Is not of speech or roses red, 

But living, throbbing hearts instead 

That shall renew the pledge they sealed 

With death upon the battlefield : 

That freedom's flag shall bear no stain 

And free men wear no tyrant's chain. 



The Soldier on Crutches 

He came down the stairs on the laughter-filled 

grill 
Where patriots were eating and drinking their 

fill, 
The tap of his crutch on the m^arble of white 
Caught my ear as I sat all alone there that night. 
I turned — and a soldier my eyes fell upon, 
He had fought for his country, and one leg was 

gone! 

As he entered a silence fell over the place ; 
Every eye in the room was turned up to his face. 
His head was up high and his eyes seemed aflame 
With a wonderful light, and he laughed as he 

came. 
He was young — not yet thirty — yet never he 

made 
One sign of regret for the price he had paid. 

143 



One moment before this young soldier came in 
I had caught bits of speech in the clatter and din 
From the fine men about me in life's dress parade 
Who were boasting the cash sacrifices they'd 

made; 
And I'd thought of my own paltry service with 

pride, 
When I turned and that hero of battle I spied. 

I shall never forget the hot flushes of shame 
That rushed to my cheeks as that young fellow 

came. 
He was cheerful and smiling and clear-eyed and 

fine 
And out of his face golden light seemed to shine. 
And I thought as he passed me on crutches: 

** How small 
Are the gifts that I make if I don't give my all.'* 

Some day in the future in many a place 

More soldiers just Hke him we'll all have to face. 

We must sit with them, talk with them, laugh 

with them, too. 
With the signs of their service forever in view 
And this was my thought as I looked at him 

then — 
Oh, God! make me worthy to stand with such 

men. 



144 



TJie Friendly Greeting 

Oh, we have friends in England, and we have 

friends in France, 
And should we have to travel there through some 

strange circumstance, 
Undaunted we should sail away, and gladly 

should we go. 
Because awaiting us would be somebody that we 

know. 

Full many a journey here we make where count- 
less strangers roam. 

Yet everywhere our faces turn we find a friend 
from home. 

Oh, we have friends in distant towns, and friends 
'neath foreign skies. 

And yet we think of him as lost whene'er a loved 
one dies. 

Yet he has merely traveled on, as many a friend 
must do; 

Within a distant city fair he waits for me and 
you, 

And when shall come our time to make that jour- 
ney through the gloam, 

To welcome us he will be there, the smiling friend 
from home. 



145 



We Need a Few More Optimists 

We need a few more optimists, 
The kind that double up their fists 
And set their jaws, determined-like, 
A blow at infamy to strike. 
Not smiling men, who drift along 
And compromise with every wrong; 
Not grinning optimists who cry 
That right was never born to die, 
But optimists who'll fight to give 
The truth an honest chance to live. 

We need a few more optimists 
For places in our fighting lists, 
The kind of hopeful men who make 
Real sacrifice for freedom/s sake; 
The optimist, with purpose strong. 
Who stands to battle every wrong. 
Takes off his coat, and buckles in 
The better joys of earth to win! 
The optimist who worries lest 
The vile should overthrow the best. 

We need a few more optimists. 
The brave of heart that long resists 
The force of Hate and Greed and lust 
And keeps in God and man his trust, 



146 



Believing, as he makes his fight 
That everything will end all right — 
Yet through the dreary days and nights 
Unfalteringly serves and fights, 
And helps to gain the joys which he 
Believes are some day sure to be. 

We need a few more optimists 
Of iron hearts and sturdy wrists; 
Not optimists who smugly smile 
And preach that in a little while 
The clouds will fade before the sun, 
But cheerful men who'll bear a gun. 
And hopeful men, of courage stout. 
Who'll see disaster round about 
And )^et will keep their faith, and fight, 
And gain the victory for right. 



147 



Taking His Place 

He's doing double duty now; 

Time's silver gleams upon his brow, 

And there are lines upon his face 

Which only passing years can trace. 

And yet he's turned back many a page 

Long written in the book of age, 

For since their boy has marched away, 

This kindly father, growing gray. 

Is doing for the mother true 

The many things the boy would do. 

Just as the son came home each night 

With youthful step and eyes alight. 

So he returns, and with a shout 

Of greeting puts her grief to rout. 

He says that she shall never miss 

The pleasure of that evening kiss. 

And with strong arms and manner brave 

He simulates the hug he gave, 

And loves her, when the day is done. 

Both as a husband and a son. 

His laugh has caught a clearer ring; 
His step has claimed the old-time swing, 
And though his absence hurts him, too. 
The bravest thing that he can do 



148 



Is just to try to take his place 
And keep the smiles on mother's face. 
So, merrily he jests at night — 
Tells her with all a boy's delight 
Of what has happened in the town, 
And thus keeps melancholy down. 

Her letters breathe of hope and cheer; 

No note of gloom she sends from here, 

And as her husband reads at night 

The many messages she writes, 

He chuckles o'er the closing line. 

She's failed his secret to divine — 

" When you get home," she tells the lad, 

" You'll scarcely know your doting dad ; 

Although his hair is turning gray, 

He seems more like a boy each day." 



149 



Christmas, 1918 

They give their all, this Christmastide, that peace 

on earth shall reign; 
Upon the snows of Flanders now, brave blood 

has left its stain; 
With ribbons red we deck our gifts; theirs bear 

the red of pain. 

They give their lives that joy shall live and little 

children play; 
They pass that all that makes for peace shall not 

be swept away; 
They die that children yet unborn shall have their 

Christmas Day. 

Come! deck the home with holly wreaths and 

make this Christmas glow. 
And let Old Glory wave above the bough of 

mistletoe ! 
Come! keep alive the faith of them who sleep 

'neath Flanders snow. 

Ye brave of heart who dwell at home, make 
merry now a- while; 

The world has need of Christmas cheer its sor- 
rows to beguile; 

And blest is he whose love can light grief's cor- 
ners with a smile. 



ISO 



Ring out once more, sweet Christmas bells, your 

message to the sky, 
Proclaim in golden tones again to every passer- 

by 
That peace shall rule the lands of earth, and only 

war shall die. 

Let love's sweet tenderness relieve war's cruel 

crimson clutch. 
Send forth the Christmas spirit, every troubled 

heart to touch; 
Blest will be all v/e do for them who do for us 

so much. 



151 



The New Year 

Come you with dangers to fright us? or hazards 

to try out our souls? 
Then may you find us undaunted; determined to 

get to our goals. 
Now, white are the pages you bring us to fill 

with the tales of our deeds, 
And I pray we shall square at the finish the work 

of our lives with our creeds. 

Oh, child of a year, do you wonder what here 

upon earth you shall find? 
America shows you a people united in purpose 

and mind; 
Whatever you bring us of danger, whatever you 

hold to affright, 
I pray that we never shall lower our standards 

of truth and of right. 

You find us a people united, full pledged to the 

work of the world. 
To banish the despot and tyrant, our banner in 

battle's unfurled; 
And here to a world that is bleeding and weary 

and heartsick you come, 
Whatever you've brought us of duty — we'll 

answer the call of your drum. 



152 



We may weep in our grief and our sorrows, we 

may bend 'neath the might of the blow, 
But never our courage shall falter, and never 

we'll run from the foe. 
We know not how troubled our pathways shall 

be nor how sorely beset. 
But I pray we shall cling to our honor as men 

and never our purpose forget. 



Our Duty to Our Flag 

Less hate and greed 

Is what we need 

And more of service true ; 

More men to love 

The flag above 

And keep it first in view. 

Less boast and brag 

About the flag. 

More faith in what it means; 

More heads erect, 

More self-respect, 

Less talk of war machines. 



The time to fight 
To keep it bright 
Is not along the way. 



Nor 'cross the foam, 
But here at home 
Within ourselves — today. 

'Tis we must love 

That flag above 

With all our might and main ; 

For from our hands — 

Not distant lands — 

Shall come dishonor's stain. 

If that flag be 

Dishonored, we 

Have done it — not the foe; 

If it shall fall. 

We, first of all. 

Shall have to strike the blow. 



The Unsettled Scores 

The men are talking peace at 'ome, but 'ere 

we're talking fight, 

There's many a little debt we've got to square ; 

A sniper sent a bullet through my bunkie's 'cad 

last night, 

And 'is body's lying somewhere h'over there. 



154 



Oh, we 'ear a lot of rumors that the war is 
h'almost through 
But Hi'm thinking that it's only arf begun; 
Every soldier in the trenches has a little debt 
that's due 
And Hi'm telling you it's not a money one. 

We 'ave 'eard the bullets whistle and we've 'eard 
the shrapnel sing 
And we've listened to a dying comrade's pleas, 
And we've 'eard about the comfort that the days 
of peace will bring, 
But we've debts that can't be settled h'over 
seas* 

They that 'aven't slept in trenches, 'aven't 
brothered with the worms, 
'Aven't 'ad a bunkie slaughtered at their side, 
May some day get together and arrange some 
sort of terms. 
But it isn't likely we'll be satisfied. 

There are debts we want to settle, 'and to 'and, 
and face to face. 
There are one or two Hi've promised that 
Hi'd square; 
And Hi cannot 'old my 'ead up, 'ere or in the 
other place. 
Till Hi've settled for my bunkie, lying there. 



155 



Warriors 

We all are warriors with sin. Crusading knights, 

we come to earth 
With spotless plumes and shining shields to joust 

with foes and prove our worth. 
The world is but a battlefield where strong and 

weak men fill the lists, 
And some make war with humble prayers, and 

some with swords and some with fists. 
And some for pleasure or for peace forsake their 

purposes and goals 
And barter for the scarlet joys of ease and pomp, 

their knightly souls. 

We're all enlisted soldiers here, in service for 

the term called life 
And each of us in some grim way must bear his 

portion of the strife. 
Temptations everywhere assail. Men do not rise 

by fearing sin. 
Nor he who keeps within his tent, unharmed, 

unscratched, the crown shall win. 
When wrongs are trampling mortals down and 

rank injustice stalks about. 
Real manhood to the battle flies, and dies or puts 

the foes to rout. 

*Tis not the new and shining blade that marks 
the soldier of the field, 

156 



His glory is his broken sword, his pride the 

scars upon his shield; 
The crimson stains that sin has left upon his 

soul are tongues that speak 
The victory of new found strength by one who 

yesterday was weak. 
And meaningless the spotless plume, the shining 

blade that goes through life 
And quits this flaming battlefield without one 

evidence of strife. 

We all are warriors with sin, we all are knights 
in Hfe's crusades, 

And with some form of tyranny, we're sent to 
earth to measure blades. 

The courage of the soul must gleam in conflict 
with some fearful foe. 

No man was ever born to life its luxuries alone 
to know. 

And he who brothers with a sin to keep his out- 
ward garb unsoiled 

And fears to battle with a wrong, shall find his 
soul decayed and spoiled. 



^57 



Easy Service 

When an empty sleeve or a sightless eye 

Or a legless form I see, 
I breathe my thanks to my God on High 

For His watchful care o'er me. 
And I say to myself, as the cripple goes 

Half stumbling on his way: 
I may brag and boast, but that brother knows 

Why the old flag floats to-day. 

I think as I sit in my cozy den 

Puffing one of my many pipes 
That Tve served with all of my fellow men 

The glorious Stars and Stripes. 
Then I see a troop in the faded blue 

And a few in the dusty gray, 
And I have to laugh at the deeds I do 

For the flag that floats to-day. 

I see men tangled in pointed wire. 

The sport of the blazing sun, 
Mangled and maimed by a leaden fire 

As the tides of battle run, 
And I fancy I hear their piteous calls 

For merciful death, and then 
The cannons cease and the darkness falls, 

And those fluttering things are men. 



158 



Out there in the night they beg for death, 

Yet the Reaper spurns their cries, 
And it seems his jest to leave them breath 

For their pitiful pleas and sighs. 
And I am here in my cozy room 

In touch with the joys of life, 
I am miles away from the fields of doom 

And the gory scenes of strife. 

I never have vainly called for aid, 

Nor suffered real pangs of thirst, 
I have marched with life in its best parade 

And never have seen its worst. 
In the flowers of ease I have ever basked, 

And I think as the Flag I see 
How much of service from some it's asked, 

How little of toil from me. 



159 



A Father's Thoughts 

Because I am his father, they 
Expect me to put grief away; 
Because I am a man, and rough 
And sometimes short of speech and gruff, 
The women folks at home beheve 
His absence doesn't make me grieve; 
But how I felt, they little know. 
The day I smiled and let him go. 

They little know the dreams I had 
Long cherished for my sturdy lad; 
They little guess the wrench it meant 
That day when off to war he went; 
They little know the tears I checked 
While standing, smiling and erect ; 
They never heard my smothered sigh 
When it was time to say good-bye. 

"What does his father think and say?" 
The neighbors ask from day to day. 
" Oh, he's a man," they answer then. 
" And you know how it is with men. 
But little do they ever say. 
They do not feel the self -same way; 
He seems indifferent and grim 
And yet he's very proud of him." 



1 60 



Indifferent and grim! Oh, heart, 
Be brave enough to play the part, 
Let not the grief in you be shown. 
Keep all your loneliness unknown. 
To you the women folks must turn 
For comfort when their sorrows burn. 
You must not at this time reveal 
The pain and anguish that you feel. 

Oh, tongue, be silent through the years, 
And eyes, keep back always the tears. 
And let them never see or know 
My hidden weight of grief and woe. 
Though every golden dream I had 
Was centered in my little lad, 
Alone my sorrow I must bear. 
They must not know how much I care. 

Though women folks may talk and weep, 
A man, unseen, his grief must keep, 
And hide behind his smile and pride 
The loneliness that dwells inside. 
And so, from day to day, I go. 
Playing the part of man, although 
Beneath the rough outside and grim, 
I think and dream and pray for him. 



i6i 



The Waiter at the Camp 

The officers' friend is the waiter at camp. 

In the night air 'twas cold and was bitterly 

damp, 
And they asked me to dine, which I readily did. 
For at dining I've talents I never keep hid. 
Then a bright-eyed young fellow came in with 

the meat, 
And straightway the troop of us started to eat. 

T silently noticed that young fellow wait 

At each officer's side 'til he'd filled up his plate ; 

I was startled a bit at the very first look 

By the size of the helping each officer took, 

And I thought as I sat there among them that 

night 
Of the army's effect on a man's appetite. 

The waiter at last brought the platter to me 
And modestly proper I started to be. 
A small piece of meat then I gracefully took; 
The young fellow stood there and gave me a look. 
" Better get all you want," he remarked to me 

then, 
" I pass this way once, but I don't come again." 

I turned in amazement. He nodded his head 
In a way that convinced me he meant what he 
said. 

162 



I knew from his manner and smile on his lip 
That the rule in the army is *' no second trip." 
And I thought as he left me my food to attack, 
Life gives us one chance, but it never comes back. 



Comrades All 

They'll bring us back the tender things they 

found on English lanes; 
They'll weave into the songs they sing some 

sweet, old English strains. 
Though England once seemed far away, and 

strange was Scotland's heather. 
We're one in hope and purpose now; our boys 

have marched together. 

They'll catch a little of the mirth that lights the 

eyes of France; 
They'll learn from them the love of life, the 

splendor of romance. 
They've crossed the sea to live with them through 

every sort of weather. 
And France and we shall comrades be! Our 

boys have marched together. 

Now England shall not be the same, nor France 
the France of old; 

163 



Our children shall have left with them more 

precious gifts than gold. 
They'll know us as we really are, when war lets 

go its tether. 
The parent lands shall find their boys have 

brought them all together. 

Just as the little ones at home come romping 

from the street, 
To tell about the parents of the children that 

they meet. 
So they will come and they will go, when finished 

are their labors. 
And we shall love and they shall love, and all 

the lands be neighbors. 



A Christmas Greeting 

Here's to you, little mother. 

With your boy so far away; 
May the joy of service smother 

All your grief this Christmas day; 
May the magic of his splendor 

Thrill your spirit through and through 
And may all that's fine and tender 

Make a smiling day for you. 
164 



May you never know the sadness 

That from day to day you dread ; 
May you never find but gladness 

In the Flag that's overhead; 
May the good God watch above him 

As he stands to duty stern, 
And at last to all who love him 

May he have a safe return. 

Little mother, take the blessing 

Of a grateful nation's heart; 
May the news that is distressing 

Never cause your tears to start ; 
May there be no fears to haunt you, 

And no lonely hours and sad; 
May your trials never daunt you, 

But may every day be glad. 

Little Mother, could I do it, 

This my Christmas gift would be: 
That he'd safely battle through it. 

This to you I'd guarantee. 
And I'd pledge to you this morning 

Joys to banish all your cares. 
Gifts of gold and silver scorning, 

I would answer all your prayers. 



165 



Ideals 

Better than land or gold or trade 

Are a high ideal and a purpose true ; 
Better than all of the wealth we've made 

Is the work for others that now we do. 
For Rome grew rich and she turned to song 

And danced to music and drank her wine, 
But she sapped the strength of her fibres strong 

And a gilded shroud was her splendor fine. 

The Rome of old with its wealth and wine 

Was the handiwork of a sturdy race ; 
They builded well and they made it fine 

And they dreamed of it as their children's 
place. 
They thought the joys they had won to give, 
And which seemed so certain and fixed and 
sure. 
To the end of time in the world would live 
And the Rome they'd fashioned would long 
endure. 

They passed to their children the hoarded gold, 
Their marble halls and their fertile fields! 

But not the spirit of Rome of old. 

Nor the Roman courage that never yields. 



i66 



They left them the wealth that their hands had 
won, 

But they failed to leave them a purpose true. 
They left them thinking life's work all done, 

And Rome went down and was lost to view. 

We m.ust guard ourselves lest we follow Rome. 

We must leave our children the finer things. 
We must teach them love of the spot called 
home 

And the lasting joy that a purpose brings. 
For vain are our Flag and our battles won, 

And vain are our lands and our stores of gold» 
If our children feel that life's work is done. 

We must give them a high ideal to hold. 



1 6^ 



Rebellion 

" My Crown Prince was fine and fair," a sorrow- 
ful father said, 

" But he marched away with his regiment and 
they tell me that he's dead! 

' We all must go,' he whispered low, ' We must 
fight for the Fatherland.' 

Now the heart of me's torn with the grief I 
know, and I cannot understand, 

For none of the Kaiser's princes lie out there 
where my soldier sleeps; 

Here's a land where grief is the common lot, but 
never the Kaiser weeps. 

" My Crown Prince was a kindly prince, and his 

eyes were gentle, too. 
And glad were the days of his youth to me when 

his wonderful smile I knew. 
Then the Kaiser flattered and spoke him well, 

and he sent him out to die. 
But his Crown Prince hasn't felt one hurt and 

the heart of me questions why? 
He talks of war in his regal way and he boasts 

of his strength to strike, 
But his boys all live and he doesn't know what 

the sting of a bullet's like. 



i68 



" Rebellion gnaws at the soul of me as I think 

of his Crown Prince gay, 
And my Prince cold in the arms of death, and 

harsh are the things I say. 
I join with the grief -torn muttering men who 

challenge the Kaiser's right 
To build his joys on the graves of ours. We 

shall rise in our wrath to smite ! 
And this is the thing we shall ask of him: to 

give us the reason why 
Our boys must fall on his battlefields, but never 

his boys must die ? " 



169 



Drafted 

The biggest moment in our lives was that when 
first he cried, 

From that day unto this, for him, we've strug- 
gled side by side. 

We can recount his daily deeds, and backwards 
we can look. 

And proudly live again the time when first a 
step he took. 

I see him trudging off to school, his mother at 

his side. 
And when she left him there alone she hurried 

home and cried. 
And then the sturdy chap of eight that was, I 

proudly see, 
Who packed a little grip and took a fishing trip 

with me. 

Among the lists of boys to go his name has now 

appeared ; 
To us has come the sacrifice that mothers all have 

feared ; 
And though we dread the parting hour when he 

shall march away, 
We love him and the Flag too much to ask of 

him to stay. 



170 



His baby ways shall march with him, and every 

joy we've had, 
Somewhere in France some day shall be a little 

brown-eyed lad; 
A toddler and a child at school, the chum that 

once I knew 
Shall wear our country's uniform, for they've 

been drafted, too. 



Reflection 

You have given me riches and ease, 

You have given me joys through the years, 
I have sat in the shade of your trees, 

With the song of your birds in my ears. 
I have drunk of your bountiful wine 

And done as I've chosen to do. 
But, oh wonderful country of mine, 

How little have I done for you! 

You have given me safe harbor from harm, 
Untroubled I've slept through the nights 

And have waked to the new morning's charm 
And claimed as my own its delights. 

I have taken the finest of fine 
From your orchards and fields where it grew. 



171 



But, oh wonderful country of mine, 
How little I've given to you ! 

You have given me a home and a place 

Where in safety my babies may play; 
Health blooms on each bright dimpled face 

And laughter is theirs every day. 
You have guarded from danger the shrine 

Where I worship when toiling is through, 
But, oh wonderful country of mine. 

How little have I done for you! 

I have taken your gifts without thought, 

I have reveled in joys that you gave. 
That I see now with blood had been bought, 

The blood of your earlier braves. 
I have lived without making one sign 

That the source of my riches I knew. 
Now, oh wonderful country of mine, 

I'm here to do something for you ! 



172 



A Wish 

God grant my children may 

Not think in terms of gold 
When I have passed away 

And my poor form is cold. 
When I no more shall be, 

If of me they would brag, 
I'd have them speak of me 

As one who loved the Flagc 

God grant my children may 

Not speak of me as one 
Who trod a selfish way, 

When I am dead and gone. 
When they recall my name 

I'd have them tell that I 
Held dear my Country's fame 

And kept her standards high. 

Not for the things I gave 

Would I be counted kind; 
When I am in my grave, 

If they my worth would find, 
I'd have them read it there 

In red and white and blue 
And stars 'of radiance rare! 

And say that I was true. 



173 



Living 

If through the years we're not to do 
Much finer deeds than we have done ; 

If we must merely wander through 
Time's garden, idhng in the sun; 

If there is nothing big ahead, 

Why do we fear to join the dead? 

Unless to-morrow means that we 
Shall do some needed service here; 

That tasks are waiting you and me 
That will be lost, save we appear; 

Then why this dreadful thought of sorrow 

That we may never see to-morrow? 

If all our finest deeds are done, 
And all our splendor's in the past; 

If there's no battle to be won. 
What matter if today's our last? 

Is life so sweet that we would live 

Though nothing back to life we give? 

Not to have lived through seventy years 
Is greatness. Fitter to be sung 

In poet's praises and in cheers 
Is he who dies in action, young; 

Who ventures all for one great deed 

And gives his life to serve life's need. 



174 



Life's Slacker 

The saddest sort of death to die 

Would be to quit the game called life 
And know, beneath the gentle sky, 

You'd lived a slacker in the strife. 
That nothing men on earth would find 

To mark the spot that you had filled; 
That you must go and leave behind 

No patch of soil your hands had tilled. 

I know^ no greater shame than this : 

To feel that yours were empty years; 
That after death no man would miss 

Your presence in this vale of tears; 
That you had breathed the fragrant air 

And sat by kindly fires that burn, 
And in earth's riches had a share 

But gave no labor in return. 

Yet some men die this way, nor care: 

They enter and they leave life's door 
And at the end, their record's bare — 

The world's no better than before. 
A few false tears are shed, and then, 

In busy service, they're forgot. 
We have no time to mourn for men 

Who lived on earth but served it not. 



175 



A man in perfect peace to die 

Must leave some mark of toil behind, 
Some building towering to the sky, 

Some symbol that his heart was kind. 
Some roadway where strange feet may tread 

That out of gratitude he made; 
He cannot bravely look ahead 

Unless his debt to life is paid. 



The Proof of Worth 

Though victory's proof of the skill you possess, 

Defeat is the proof of your grit; 
A weakling can smiile in his days of success, 

But at trouble's first sign he will quit. 
So the test of the heart and the test of your pluck 

Isn't skies that are sunny and fair. 
But how do you stand to the blow that is struck 

And how do you battle despair? 

A fool can seem wise when the pathway is clear 

And it's easy to see the way out. 
But the test of man's judgment is something to 
fear. 

And what does he do when in doubt? 
And the proof of his faith is the courage he shows 

When sorrows lie deep in his breast; 



176 



It's the way that he suffers the griefs that he 
knows 
That brings out his worst or his best. 

The test of a man is how much he will bear 

For a cause which he knows to be right, 
How long will he stand in the depths of despair, 

How much will he suffer and fight ? 
There are many to serve when the victory's near 

And few are the hurts to be borne, 
But it calls for a leader of courage to cheer 

The men in a battle forlorn. 

It's the way you hold out against odds that are 
great 

That proves what your courage is worth. 
It's the way that you stand to the bruises of fate 

That shows up your stature and girth. 
And victory's nothing but proof of your skill, 

Veneered with a glory that's thin, 
Unless it is proof of unfaltering will. 

And unless you have suffered to win. 



177 



I Follow a Famous Father 

I follow a famous father, 

His honor is mine to wear; 
He gave me a name that was free from shame, 

A name he was proud to bear. 
He lived in the morning sunlight, 

And miarched in the ranks of right. 
Hp was always true to the best he knew 

And the shield that he wore was bright. 

I follow a famous father. 

And never a day goes by 
But I feel that he looks down to me 

To carry his standard high. 
He stood to the sternest trials 

As only a brave man can; 
Though the way be long, I must never wrong 

The name of so good a man. 

I follow a famous father. 

Not known to the printed page. 
Nor written down in the world's renown 

As a prince of his little age. 
But never a stain attached to him 

And never he stooped to shame; 
He was bold and brave and to me he gave 

The pride of an honest name. 



178 



I follow a famous father, 

And him I must keep in mind; 
Though his form is gone, I must carry oii 

The name that he left behind. 
It was mine on the day he gave it, 

It shone as a monarch's crown, 
And as fair to see as it came to me 

It must be when I pass it down. 



1^9 



The Important Thing 

He was playing in the garden when we called 

him in for tea. 
But he didn't seem to hear us, so I went out there 

to see 
What the little rogue was up to, and I stooped 

and asked him why, 
When he heard his mother calling, he had made 

her no reply. 
" I am playing war," he told me, " and I'm up 

against defeat, 
And until I stop the Germans I can't take the 

time to eat." 

" Isn't supper so important that you'll quit your 

round of play? 
Don't you want to eat the shortcake mother made 

for you to-day ? " 
Then I asked him, but he answered as he shook 

his little head : 
'' I don't dare to stop for shortcake, if I do 

they'll kill me dead ! 
When I drive them from their trenches, then to 

supper I'll come in, 
But I mustn't stop a minute, 'cause this war I've 

got to win." 

I left him in his battle, left him there to end his 
play, 

i8o 



For he'd taught to me a lesson that is needed 
much to-day; 

Not the lure of cake could turn him from the 
work he had to do; 

There was nothing so important as to see his 
struggle through. 

And I wondered all that evening, as he slum- 
bered in his bed 

If we'd risen to the meaning of the work that 
lies ahead? 

Are we roused to the importance of the danger 

in our way? 
Are we thinking still of pleasures as we thought 

but yesterday? 
Are our comforts and our riches in our minds 

still uppermost? 
Must we wait, to see our danger, till the foe is 

on our coast? 
Oh, there's nothing so important, nothing now 

that's worth a pin 
Save the war that we are fighting. It's a war 

we've got to win. 



i8i 



What He Learned 

" I learned this over there," said a soldier lad 

to me, 
" That the general and the private are as like 

as they can be; 
And though one is giving orders and the other 

one obeys, 
There'd be no such thing as freedom if they 

pulled in separate ways. 
The thing that counts in battle is a centralized 

control. 
With everybody in it set to reach a common goal. 

" The general wasn't fighting just because he 

loved to fight; 
He'd the everlasting notion that his country's 

cause was right. 
The Flag that waved above us meant as much 

to him as me. 
And the thing that he was after wasn't fame, 

but victory. 
And I came to understand it, that beneath the 

shoulder straps 
And the markings on the tunic, we were ordinary 

chaps. 

" He Was thinking of his children in the way I 
thought of mine; 

182 



He was wondering where men went when death 
took them from the hne. 

Oh, I don't know how to tell it, but down under- 
neath the skin 

We were all alike in Flanders, with a common 
goal to win. 

And we just forgot our notions and separate 
ranks and creeds 

And worked and pulled together, and that's all 
a nation needs. 

" I learned this over there," said a soldier lad 

to me, 
" That the general and the private are as like as 

they can be. 
And when people come to know it — when they 

learn that every man 
Wants to win his way to Heaven and to do the 

best he can — 
They'll just work and pull together for the glory 

of the soul, 
And be one united army marching tov/ard a 

common goal." 



183 



Constant Beauty 

It's good to have the trees again, the singing of 
the breeze again, 
It's good to see the Hlacs bloom as lovely as 
of old. 
It's good that we can feel again, the touch of 
beauties real again. 
For hearts and minds, of sorrow now, have 
all that they can hold. 

The roses haven't changed a bit, nor have the 
peonies stranged a bit, 
They bud and bloom the way they did before 
the war began. 
The world is upside down to-day, there's much 
to make us frown to-day 
And gloom and sadness everywhere beset the 
path of man. 

But now the lilacs bloom again and give us their 

perfume again 
And now the roses smile at us and nod along 

the way; 
And it is good to see again the blossoms on each 

tree again 
And feel that nature hasn't changed the way we 

have to-day. 



184 



Oh, we have changed from what we were, we're 
not the carefree lot we were. 
Our hearts are filled with sorrow now and 
grave concern and pain, 
But it is good to see once more the budding 
lilac tree once more. 
And find the constant roses here to comfort 
us again. 



i8s 



When the Drums Shall Cease to Beat 

When wiii the laughter ring again in the way that 
it used to do? 

Not till the soldiers come home again, not till 
the war is through. 

When wall the holly gleam again and the Christ- 
mas candles burn? 

Not till the swords are sheathed once more and 
the brave of our land return. 

When will happy hearts meet again in the lights 

of the Christmas tree? 
Not till the cannons cease their roar and the 

sailors comiC from sea. 
¥/hen shall we sing as we used to do and dance 

in the old-time way ? 
Not till the soldiers come home again and the 

bugles cease to play. 

Oh, dull is the red of the holly now and faintly 

the candles burn; 
And we long for the sm.ile of the missing face 

and the absent one's return. 
We long for the laughter we used to know and 

the love that m.ade giving sweet, 
But we must v/ait for the joys of old till the 

drums shall cease to beat. 



i86 



We shall laugh once more as we used to do, and 

dance in the old-time way, 
For this is the pledge they have made to us who 

serve in the war today; 
And the joys of home that we treasure so are 

the joys that their Hves defend, 
And they shall give us our Christmas time as 

soon as the v/ar shall end. 



187 



Prophecy 

We shall thank our God for graces 

That we've never known before; 
We shall look on manlier faces 

When our troubled days are o'er. 
We shall rise a better nation 

From the battle's grief and grime 
And shall win our soul's salvation 

In this bitter trial time. 
And the old Flag waving o'er us 

In the dancing morning sun 
Will be daily singing for us 

Of a splendor new begun. 

When the rifles cease to rattle 

And the cannon cease to roar, 
When is passed the smoke of battle 

And the death lists are no more, 
With a yet undreamed of beauty 

As a people we shall rise, 
And a love of right and duty 

Shall be gleaming in our eyes. 
As a country, tried by sorrow. 

With a heritage of worth. 
We shall stand in that to-morrow 

With the leaders of the earth. 



i88 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

A touch of the plain and the prairie 85 

Aye, we will follow the flag 62 

Because I am his father, they 160 

Better than land or gold or trade 166 

Come you with dangers to fright us ? 152 

" Dear Father," he wrote me from Somewhere 

in France 91 

" Do your bit ! " How cheap and trite 120 

For strength to face the battle's might 138 

Forgotten petty difference now 128 

Get off your downy cots of ease 48 

God grant me these: the strength to do 95 

God grant my children may 173 

God grant to us the strength of men 70 

God has been good to men. He gave 14 

God of battles, be with us now 23 

Good luck ! That's all I'm saying 24 

He came down the stairs on the laughter-filled 

grill 143 

He didn't seem to care for work 114 

He has heard his country calling 90 

He is marching dusty highways and he's riding 

bitter trails 60 

He isn't long on speeches 7Z 

Fle's doing double duty now 148 

He tried to travel No Man's Land 112 

He was just a small church parson 132 

He was playing in the garden 180 

He will not come to him this year with all his 

old-time joy 80 

He writes to us most every day 78 

Here we are, Britain! the finest and best of us 116 

189 



190 Index of First Lines 

Here's to you, little mother 164 

His comrades have enlisted 100 

His mother's eyes are saddened 49 

His name was Kelly Ingram; he was Ala- 
bama's son 30 

His room is as it used to be 41 

Home to the folks with tender eyes 125 

I don't know what they'll put him at 34 

I follow a famous father 178 

I may never be a hero 134 

I notice when the news comes in 106 

I sometimes wonder when I read the sorrow 

in his face 122 

I'd like to be the sort of man 139 

If he should meet a mother there 33 

If it's wrong to believe in the land that w^e love 104 

If through the years we're not to do 174 

It is better to die for the flag 75 

It's a bigger thing you're doing than the most 

of us have done 42 

It's coming time for planting in that little 

patch of ground 88 

It's funny when a feller wants to do his little 

bit 140 

It's good to have the trees again. . . • 184 

" I've learned this over there," said a soldier 

lad to m.e 182 

Less hate and greed 153 

Life is a struggle for peace 99 

Listen to the laughter of the brook that's racin' 

by! 130 

Little mother, life's adventure calls your boy 

away 50 

Little woman, hourly sitting 76 

Mothers and wives, 'tis the call to arms 28 



Index to First Lines 191 

** My Crown Prince was fine and fair," a sor- 
rowful father said 168 

Not somewhere in America, but everywhere 

today 18 

Oh, make us worthy 25 

Oh, mother, be you brave of heart 32 

Oh, some shall stand in glory's light Ill 

Oh, we have friends in England, and we have 

friends in France. 145 

Oh, we have shipped his Christmas box 94 

One came to the house with a pretty speech ... 71 

Out of it all shall come splendor and gladness. 93 

Show the flag and let it wave 82 

Since men with life must purchase life 52 

Some will heed the call to arms 136 

The biggest moment in our lives 170 

The boys upon the honor roll 83 

The country needs a man like you 96 

The finest tribute we can pay 142 

The glory of a soldier — and a soldier's not a 

saint 46 

The men are talking peace at 'ome 154 

The mother on the sidewalk as the troops are 

marching by 56 

The ofHcers' friend is the waiter at camp. ... 162 

The saddest sort of death to die 175 

The things that make a soldier great and send 

him out to die 20 

** The worst is yet to come " 121 

There are many to cheer when the battle begins 108 

These are the days when little thoughts.' 29 

They give their all this Christmastide 150 

They have said you needn't go to the front to 

face the foe 66 



192 Index of First Lines 

They'll bring us back the tender things 163 

They say we must not hate, nor fight in hate. . 72 

They will not come in swinging line 11 

This I heard the Old Flag say 102 

This is the thing we fight 13 

Though victory's proof of the skill you possess 176 

Time was the cry when round the world 86 

To keep in mind from day to day 98 

To serve my country day by day 40 

To us the Flag has little meant 124 

'Twas hard to think that he must go- 26 

We all are warriors with sin 156 

We are done with little thinking 58 

We have boasted our courage in moments of 

ease 16 

We have wandered afar in our hunting for 

pleasure 127 

We know not where the path may lead ...... 68 

We little thought how much they meant 105 

We need a few more optimists 146 

We never knew how much the flag. 22 

We shall thank our God for graces 188 

We used to think her frivolous 38 

We've come from the mud and the dirt 109 

WeVe raised a flagpole on the farm 54 

We've had a letter from the boy. 64 

" What is the glory of age? " I said 123 

When an empty sleeve or a sightless eye 158 

When will the laughter ring again 186 

When you were just our little boy 118 

You have given me riches and ease 171 

" You've heard a good deal of the telephone 

wires," he said as we sat our ease S6 

Your dream and my dream is not that we shall 

rest 44 



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